I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. The imbecile. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming.
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