She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead. 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. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. “Don’t worry, Julian. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Here we are. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. “This place is very beautiful.
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