Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. I'm sorry. We must never let your father know we went. “This isn’t a world for an innocent girl to walk about in. ” “I mean—” “I behaved like an idiot, that’s all. The elements were wrathful as their passions. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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