" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. No girl with a face like that…. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. She crept out of the shadows. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “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.
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