" "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. . Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. “So long as I am your father, so long as your life is entrusted to my care, I feel bound by every obligation to use my authority to check this odd disposition of yours toward extravagant enterprises.
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