I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. “Where are we going?” Lucy asked desperately as Michelle began to twitch with greater frequency. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. 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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