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ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-1-2
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-3-4
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-5-6
ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER-7
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-1-2
ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW-3
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-1-2
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-3-4-5
THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS-6-7
THE CRISIS-1-2-3-4
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-1-2-3
THE FLIGHT TO LONDON-4-5-6
EXPOSTULATIONS-1-2-3-4
EXPOSTULATIONS-5-6
IDEALS AND A REALITY-1-2
IDEALS AND A REALITY-3-4
IDEALS AND A REALITY-5-6-7
BIOLOGY-1-2
BIOLOGY-3-4-5-6
BIOLOGY-7-8-9
DISCORDS-1
DISCORDS-2-3-4
DISCORDS-5-6-8-9
THE SUFFRAGETTES-1-2-3
THE SUFFRAGETTES-4-5
THOUGHTS IN PRISON-1-2-3-4-5-6
ANN VERONICA PUTS THINGS IN ORDER-1-2-3-4-5-6-7
THE SAPPHIRE RING-1-2-3-4
THE SAPPHIRE RING-5-6
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-1-2-3
THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT-4-5-6
THE LAST DAYS AT HOME-1-2-3
IN THE MOUNTAINS-1-2-3-4
IN THE MOUNTAINS-5-6-7-8-9-10-11
IN PERSPECTIVE-1-2-3

slippers across the fender. She wondered occasionally why his mind 

needed so much distraction. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which 

he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and 

carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. 

 

It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was 

younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the 

impression of its predecessor. But she certainly remembered that when 

she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a 

bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. And 

in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and 

hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to 

the scullery wall. 

 

It had been Ann Veronica's lot as the youngest child to live in a home 

that became less animated and various as she grew up. Her mother had 

died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married 

off--one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone 

out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could 

of her father. But he was not a father one could make much of. 

 

His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest 

quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern 

vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure 

and good for life. He made this simple classification of a large and 

various sex to the exclusion of all intermediate kinds; he held that 

the two classes had to be kept apart even in thought and remote from one 

another. Women are made like the potter's vessels--either for worship 

or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. He had never wanted 

daughters. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed 

his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had 

sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. He was 

a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his 

dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real 

vein of passion in his sentiment. But he had always felt (he had never 

allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family 

was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. He had, 

however, planned brilliant careers for his two sons, and, with a certain 


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