She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. "He's here. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. One cannot trust any man at all. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity.
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