Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. My heart misgives me. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. 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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