‘I assure you it suits her as Mary would not. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. 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. Had she not seen them go
forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his
imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood,
she must present some irresistible project. She stared at his
pleading face. I
will be very well without him. Ramage—about the forty pounds. "Mr.
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