A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. “You shall go,” he declared. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Re-issued with new cover October 2013.
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