“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. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. Kneebone took his leave. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. " Further remonstrance, however, was cut short by the sudden entrance of Mrs. . “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ’ ‘Exactly so.
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