“What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. CHAPTER XII. 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. You see, I’m selfish. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought.
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