She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. He looked at her, hurt. 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. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. .
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