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. She had discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations.
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