A father is in debt, we'll say. I have suffered all this. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. For a time she furnished the flat. Or perhaps my father once. 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. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. And that would spoil it.
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