There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’ Melusine frowned. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. 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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