"An end of it!" said Gwendolen, aloud, starting from her seat as she heard the steps and voices of her mamma and sisters coming in from church. She hurried to the piano and began gathering together her pieces of music with assumed diligence, while the expression on her pale face and in her burning eyes was what would have suited a woman enduring a wrong which she might not resent, but would probably revenge.
"Well, my darling," said gentle Mrs. Davilow, entering, "I see by the wheel-marks that Klesmer has been here. Have you been satisfied with the interview?" She had some guesses as to its object, but felt timid about implying them.
"Satisfied, mamma? oh, yes," said Gwendolen, in a high, hard tone, for which she must be excused, because she dreaded a scene of emotion. If she did not set herself resolutely to feign proud indifference, she felt that she must fall into a passionate outburst of despair, which would cut her mamma more deeply than all the rest of their calamities.

"An end of it!" said Gwendolen aloud, starting up as she heard the voices of her mamma and sisters coming in from church. She hurried to the piano and began to rearrange her music.
"Well, my darling," said gentle Mrs. Davilow, "were you satisfied with your interview with Klesmer?" She had some guesses as to its object.
"Satisfied, mamma? oh, yes," said Gwendolen, in a high, hard tone. She had set herself resolutely to feign proud indifference, lest she fall into a passionate outburst of despair.
