Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. I'll call for you after lunch. That's how I finally got wind of it. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. About her, as she had gone day by day to and from the Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an incidental aspect of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know nothing, aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote. She turned back into the hall.
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