Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. “Why should it matter?” he said. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. “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. Everything, my dear, everything!.
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