‘You can’t prove nothing. 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. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. A small voice greeted her, hissing. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world.
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