One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. 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. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. "He left an envelope with some money in it. I don’t mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven’t set eyes on her this side of the water.
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