Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. It had been removed from the scabbard by the Jew. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. Abruptly, Gerald turned.
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