” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. ” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said.
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