" "Lord bless us!" ejaculated Wood, "how shocking! No, I did not know that. 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 thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. No work that offered was at all of the quality she had vaguely postulated for herself. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws.
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