I—well, I lost my temper. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. ’ ‘I’m hanged if I can make out either of you,’ complained Hilary. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. I really must leave you now. ” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. Ann Veronica considered her answer.
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