No need to do such things. But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. 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. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound.
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