I fight. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. ’ She drew a heavy breath. But she did not speak. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. “These are her rooms,” she said. “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. Wild is a friend of yours, I'm sorry for what I said. Brendon was silent. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless.
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