Anna was no favourite at No. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “What are you doing?” He cried. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life.
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