Ann Veronica snatched at the opportunity, and spent most of the intervening time in the Assyrian Court of the British Museum, reading and thinking over a little book upon the feminist movement the tired woman had made her buy. 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. ‘How famous. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. She saw how overworked he was. The gentlemen are so particular now, and a good thing too, I say. Wood.
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