Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door.
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