It was the last thing she felt like drinking. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. ” Ann Veronica thought.
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