\" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. “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 rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction.
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