She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. 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. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. . ’ The lady sighed and spread her hands. ‘That is not your affair. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. One would think I had agreed to her going.
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