All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. I know all about it. 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. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood.
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