" Mr. ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. “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. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. “And if I were you I would keep away from the fire. I'll repay you. Sepulchre's.
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