But it was very gloomy.

It rained, too, for days together, which made it worse.
Bianca Corleone came to see her, and they sat a long time together, but neither referred to Gianluca, and very little was said about poor Bosio.
It was impossible to talk freely, so soon after his death, and Veronica was not inclined to tell even her intimate friend of what had happened on that last night.

It had something of a sacred character for her, and she said prayers nightly before the poor man's photograph, sometimes with tears.
Now and then Veronica felt so utterly desolate that she made Elettra come and sit in her dressing-room and sew, merely to feel that there was something human and alive near her.

She enticed the Maltese cat to live in her rooms as much as possible, for its animal company.

She did not talk with her maid, but it was less lonely to have her sitting there, by the window.
She supposed that before long the first black cloud of mourning would lighten a little over the house, and she had been taught at the convent to be patient under difficulties and troubles.