It was Annabel who spoke. 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. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. Michelle awoke suddenly, violently.
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