Her greatest exploit was the howling before the mid-day meal. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. But God did not put you next door.
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