Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. 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. Winifred instantly picked it up. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. I cannot let you go.
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