Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. "I forbid you to do that. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. “You certainly are. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. " A deep indignant groan followed. He then spoke with a certain fatherly kindliness of the past. She took to listening through closed doors. “He has said something of the sort. Wood, popping her head through the window. “I remember hearing something about it. When at first she had realized that he 206 had conducted a sexual affair with a local well-known Florentine courtesan she called him out, accusing him of exposing her to an array of diseases. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation.
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