“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. ‘What do you think?’ ‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. Don’t go back into Victorian respectability and pretend you don’t know and you can’t think and all the rest of it. You lack only that mechanical knack of expression which is the least important part of an artist’s equipment, but which remains a tedious and absolute necessity. I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether. Sometimes when adrenaline rushes through a body. ‘I dare say the best plan will be for me to bring her to see you, after all. Wild will hang me. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls.
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