They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. But, in spite of his outcries and resistance, he was dragged along by Jonathan and his janizaries. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked.
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