He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. “I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature.
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