The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. 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. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. The way—the way we are led on! We are taught to believe we are free in the world, to think we are queens. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition.
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