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. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. She looked at him gravely and squinted. " "If I thought so—" cried the knight fiercely; "but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power.
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