‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. 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. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. He resumed his listening. For all that, it is folly.
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