He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. He had heard nothing. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage.
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