Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. “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’m just in time to say good-bye before I go, father. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
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