“What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. 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. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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