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Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. He was still thickly clad in jeans. “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. \"Yep. “So you’d best open your coffers. She struggled fiercely not to give way. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment.

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