Surely he was imagining this picture. Thank you for walking me home the other day. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. 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. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. Mr. ” “As you will, dear lover.
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