” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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