But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. ” CONTENTS ANN VERONICA CHAPTER THE FIRST CHAPTER THE SECOND CHAPTER THE THIRD CHAPTER THE FOURTH CHAPTER THE FIFTH CHAPTER THE SIXTH CHAPTER THE SEVENTH CHAPTER THE EIGHTH CHAPTER THE NINTH CHAPTER THE TENTH CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER THE TWELFTH CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH ANN VERONICA CHAPTER THE FIRST ANN VERONICA TALKS TO HER FATHER Part 1 One Wednesday afternoon in late September, Ann Veronica Stanley came down from London in a state of solemn excitement and quite resolved to have things out with her father that very evening. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served.
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