How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. Having heard from Thames that you were better, and that your sole anxiety was about me, I came to give you the first intelligence of my escape. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person. “I don’t think she will,” she said. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel.
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