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She held out her hand frankly. Not entirely. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. ’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine crossly. You know—I worship you. 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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