For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. 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. “Let me see,” he said. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. ” “I am really curious,” she persisted.
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