CHAPTER XI. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. 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. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. "I didn't expect this from you," rejoined Thames, resolutely. “I suppose, Mr. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point.
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