Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “I must try the Directory. " "Robbed him!" screamed the widow. She acted as her mother had taught her to. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. He glanced at his watch. “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. And you are something of a heroine, too. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another.
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