Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept.
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