Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report. “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. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. ’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly.
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