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. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed.
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