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 ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen.
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