’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. So the talk went on. It was his heart. “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. “For luck. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet.
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