Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my sister’s latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my husband and to myself.
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