It fits your style. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. “Of course!” he said. 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. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him.
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