If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. He refused. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. 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. If we were set upon I could not defend you. She felt as if she had struck them unawares.
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