She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Let us have no more of this humbug. “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. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. It is like a second honeymoon. ” She looked at him for a moment with fire in her eyes.
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