“Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. “For me there is no second turn.
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