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. Here we are. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. Every other wall comprised bookcases, except where the doors appeared. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read.
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