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. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. " As he said this, the carpenter patted the cheek of the little object of his benevolent professions, and, in so doing, unintentionally aroused him from his slumbers. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. " A deep indignant groan followed. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone who has the right to ask. ” Ann Veronica made no answer. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre.
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