” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. Look at me. 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.
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