Let me engage myself. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. 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. He liked to be near me, he liked to be near any female, especially a young female. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers.
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