It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. She replied softly. He called a waiter. " "Stop!" cried Jonathan, who did not care to push matters too far, "let me have a word with you, Mr. A nurse came hurrying up. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. Pray, walk in. 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. “I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica.
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