" She opened the book which she had brought to the table. I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are. . “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. Profligate women are never reclaimed. “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. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns.
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