A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. Anna rose a few minutes before the general company. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter.
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