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. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. ’ ‘Ah. “It’s a matter of feeling with me.
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