During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. “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. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. “Vee,” she said, “come home. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H. Mr. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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