’ The dagger was in her hand. ’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. She could feel her face turning beet red.
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