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,’ he said, smiling. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. She was caught by some of the bystanders, who offered by her every assistance in their power. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet.
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