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. Now what? There was an interest, or why ask him who they were. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way.
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