“Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. He had heard this talk before. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to 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. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left.
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