Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. “Maybe I should have stayed home. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person. She always dawdled, so it was easy. ” He took up his hat.
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