It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. "But be it as it may, he is now beyond the reach of earthly punishment. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. “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.
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