She woke up choking and belching water. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. All the furniture was moved, all the meals were disarranged, and everybody, Ann Veronica included, appeared in new, bright costumes. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. Dorling said. ” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her.
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