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. Ah, no, I have it wrong. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. "Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. Shotbolt?" asked Austin.
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