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. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. It was so arranged that Ruth went on duty after breakfast and remained until noon. "I don't believe McClintock would have gone into convulsions at the sight of it. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her. But I have not done so, and will not.
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