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. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. Don't lay it all to the boy. “So how about this Friday?” He asked.
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