"But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. She loved him. 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. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. The woman shrugged her shoulders. I'll be quiet. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him.
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