Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. Without the protection of John’s star power, certain denizens of the school found new reserves of energy and turned their attention to her, especially Kate Pfister, a bleach blonde with a face that was a plain sort of pretty who had once dated John. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived.
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