There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. "So it is," the doctor agreed. But those days are over—quite over. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. ‘Seen her again, have you? Well, if she’s been giving you as much saucy impudence as I’ve had to contend with, I can only say I’m glad of it. 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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