I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. That’s why I chucked Manning. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. 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.
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