It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. 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. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you.
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