Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Gwen made an inquiry, and, directed by Mrs. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. .
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