I will tell you our plans on the way to the station. Ann Veronica wondered what her father would do if she were to tell him the full story of her relations with Ramage. “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. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. A hansom stopped a little way off. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another.
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