Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea.
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