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. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. “Let me see,” he said. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. ‘Come, cry a truce. All her life Martha had been there.
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