My wife—killed me. 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. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. He was wary of her, which meant that perhaps they had found one or many of the bodies that she thought she had hidden so well. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette.
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