This isn’t the place. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. ” She shrugged her shoulders slightly. “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. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy.
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