I would not have him know—now—for the world. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. 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. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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