Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Now I know that you don’t live as close to the Beck house as you once pretended. It was a mad half-hour. “Why aren’t you in Orchestra, Lucy?” “I just. “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. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly.
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