He was sad, troubled and restless, and talked a great deal about the unhappy position of his daughter--sometimes in a way that indicated much incoherence of thought.

To this state succeeded one of almost total silence, and he would sit for hours, if not aroused from reverie and inaction by his daughter, in apparent dreamy listlessness.

His conversation, when he did talk on any subject, showed, however, that his mind had regained its old clearness.
On the third day after Irene's arrival at Ivy Cliff, her trunks came up from New York.

She had packed them on the night before leaving her husband's house, and marked them with her name and that of her father's residence.

No letter or message accompanied them.