"Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. . She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. “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 could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. He had this thing for his twin daughters. "You are my prisoner, Jack.
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