It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female.
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