We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. The latch had not fully caught. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. The whole affair interested him deeply. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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