” Her mind drifted into a speculation about her sister. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. 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 were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. And you promised to tell me.
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