There it is. . The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. He kissed her lightly on the lips. 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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