It had been a trying day. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. 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. \"Just fine, John. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat.
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