God knows how you did it. 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. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. At noon the doctor himself arrived. Wood, at the top of her voice. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. The challenge gave her courage. Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford. ‘Not yet, madame.
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