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. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun.
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