Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. " CHAPTER IV.
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