She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. “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. ’ His brows rose. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm.
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