Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. So he goes out with girls from his group instead of me. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. I know you. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. "You read it, Ruth. ‘You see, it is that I am a female, and you all are men. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts.
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