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 wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. “Why not? It might amuse me. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. ‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. ‘I do not need for you to tell me this. Why, honestly enouch. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them.
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