He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. 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. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at any moment. Wood—and after him came his daughter. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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