“He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. I do not care in the least. 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. He hated himself a little for it. ” She looked at him doubtfully. Anyhow, that is how things are. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk.
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