“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,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. But even with that furniture it remained extremely vague, the possible good and the possible evil as well! The possible evil! “I’ll go,” said Ann Veronica for the hundredth time.
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