“It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. Did he track her? She was unaware if he did. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. Another horn now resounded from the further extremity of the thoroughfare; this was answered by a third; and presently a fourth, and more remote blast, took up the note of alarm. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. E.
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