But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. 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.
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