She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. Sorvelli caught me! In Fourth Grade, I broke my arm because I tripped on a metal doorway. 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. But how could you get—Who gave you credit? “You see,” said Ann Veronica, “my landlady kept on my room while I was in Holloway, and the fees for the College mounted up pretty considerably. I like such interviews.
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