Manning, abruptly. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. “If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. Ann Veronica decided she would have to go on with Capes another day, and, looking up, discovered him sitting on a stool with his hands in his pockets and his head a little on one side, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression.
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