She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. You can pay me when we return. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly.
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