“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. She rapped again, louder. ‘There are no Remenhams left. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. “A Socialist of the order of John Ruskin.
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