Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. In short, every contrivance that ingenuity could devise was resorted to by this horde of reprobates to secure themselves from danger or molestation. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. Now I do. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. He classified her as he seated himself. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. ” “We are,” said Ann Veronica.
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