“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 chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. Meanwhile, she doesn’t realize she’s pregnant and he’s still after her, day after day. She hoped desperately that Mrs. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. 1. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all.
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