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’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. “Am I dull?” she said. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. See what your misconduct has deprived you of —see what you might have been. 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.
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