Wood required little pressing. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Michelle looked at her pathetically. ” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver.
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