Although she had refused to answer his impertinent questions. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. “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 he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. "Many thanks, Sir," replied Thornhill, with freezing politeness; "but Id not require assistance. “There is my aunt,” she said.
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