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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

human amount of warping and delay, they were pursuing these. One was 

in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor 

business. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother's care. 

 

He had no ideas about daughters. They happen to a man. 

 

Of course a little daughter is a delightful thing enough. It runs about 

gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of 

soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. It 

is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it 

does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. It makes 

wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good 

enough for Punch. You call it a lot of nicknames--"Babs" and "Bibs" and 

"Viddles" and "Vee"; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. 

It loves to sit on your knee. All that is jolly and as it should be. 

 

But a little daughter is one thing and a daughter quite another. There 

one comes to a relationship that Mr. Stanley had never thought out. 

When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once 

resorted to distraction. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved 

his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any 

quality of guidance. Its heroes never had daughters, they borrowed other 

people's. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was 

that it had rather a light way with parental rights. His instinct was in 

the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound 

to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his 

declining years just as he thought fit. About this conception of 

ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he 

liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. Ownership 

seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a 

daughter's upbringing. Daughters were not like sons. He perceived, 

however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in 

discountenanced these assumptions. Nothing else was put in their place, 

and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. The new and 

the old cancelled out; his daughters became quasi-independent 

dependents--which is absurd. One married as he wished and one against 

his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented 

with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless 

friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a 


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