. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. "What's the matter?" he cried. “I’m fine,” she said softly. The satisfaction of cheating Death again. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. 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. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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