“Yes, I remember,” she said. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. "Heed her not. 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. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast.
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