She opened her eyes. “Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. “My dear Anna,” he answered. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled.
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