CHAPTER THE FOURTH THE CRISIS Part 1 We left Miss Stanley with Ann Veronica’s fancy dress in her hands and her eyes directed to Ann Veronica’s pseudo-Turkish slippers. She was like an angel with one wing. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her.
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