She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. 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. Ramage. The audience was made up of parents, teachers, and a few other curious folks from town, all sitting hushed in anticipatory silence as the school orchestra assembled onstage.
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