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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. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. "Help—I'll hold him!" "Leave her," cried Jack, darting down stairs, amid a furious ringing of bells, —"the house is alarmed,—follow me!" "Curses light on you!" cried Blueskin, savagely; "since you won't be advised, take your fate. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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