“I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am. “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. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Cathy and Shari toiled over boiling pots of potatoes, candied sweet potatoes with orange rind, corn casserole, and almond green beans.
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