But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. “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. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do. "I'll tote the odiousness outside. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. ‘Must be still downstairs. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal.
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