I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. Can it ever be so good again?” Ann Veronica put out a firm hand and squeezed his arm. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. I have done n-nothing. 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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