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My father's answer was prompt. What he had read between the lines of my
letter I do not know; what he said was this--
"Daughter--Certainly! I am writing to son-in-law telling him to
quit London quick. I guess you've been too long there already. And
while you are away you can draw on me yourself for as much as you
please, for where it is a matter of money you must never let nobody
walk over you.
Yours--&c."
The letter to my husband produced an immediate result. Within
twenty-four hours, the telephone was at work with inquiries about trains
and berths on steamers; and within a week we were on our way to
Marseilles to join the ship that was to take us to Port Said.
Our state-rooms were on the promenade deck of the steamer with a
passage-way between them. This admitted of entirely separate existences,
which was well, for knowing or guessing my share in our altered
arrangements, my husband had become even more morose than before, and no
conversation could be sustained between us.


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