The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. 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. They did not have to wait long. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. “Your sister’s future is at stake. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. Seen down the length of the laboratory, Manning looked a very handsome and shapely gentleman indeed, and, at the sight of his eager advance to his fiancee, Miss Klegg replaced one long-cherished romance about Ann Veronica by one more normal and simple. "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know.
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