The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. 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. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line.
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