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. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. " "Are you a real nurse?" "Yes. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. " "Wear that to-night, then. “All my dreadful scientific things,” said Ann Veronica.
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