” He gave the note to the parlormaid the next morning in an inadvertent, casual manner just as he was leaving the house to catch his London train. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. “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. I am come to serve you. Melusine cursed herself for his injury. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. He’s nice. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. ‘So are you. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress.
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