’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. 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. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. C. And she seemed always to keep one eye on Ann Veronica’s dress.
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