Fortescue had not much ability to keep her sister, and a little while after her mother’s death Ann Veronica met Gwen suddenly on the staircase coming from her father’s study, shockingly dingy in dusty mourning and tearful and resentful, and after that Gwen receded from the Morningside Park world, and not even the begging letters and distressful communications that her father and aunt received, but only a vague intimation of dreadfulness, a leakage of incidental comment, flashes of paternal anger at “that blackguard,” came to Ann Veronica’s ears. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter.
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