Why should I?” “At last,” he murmured, “at last I have found you. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. The boy had all kinds of opportunity; but it's the old story of father making it too easy. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. 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. We shall be equally matched.
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