She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. 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. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. None at all. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. The barmaids had too strongly appealed to his sense of novelty.
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