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. After all, why need one look down. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. They litter up the room. And the opportunity to share in your exciting adventures was just too tempting to be put aside. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch.
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