O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch.
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