“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. I know you. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. " The Wastrel laughed. Then we can look out together for such employment—as would be more suitable for you. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound.
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