Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. I came in by the vestry, and we will go out that way again. If I were a clean, free man—We’ll have to talk of all these things. However, I've not told you all; for old Van did say something about the child saving his new-found friend's life at the time of meeting; but how that's to happen, I'm sure I can't guess. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that. 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.
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