‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. 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. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. "One word before we part, adorable girl— only one," he continued, detaining her. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room.
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