\" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. She was trembling a little. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. I—well, I lost my temper. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. . 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. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. To make Ruth pay for the whole shot! To wash away his sin by crucifying her: that was precisely what he had set about.
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