‘And if it was not for that imbecile of a Gérard, who has put his soldiers to watch for me, it would not need that I make it. 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. ‘Kill him? Oh. The air was pungent and leaden. "Good work. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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