Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. 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. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. Mere formality. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. She looked 57 forward to when Sebastian visited. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. I said I’d do anything. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride.
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