And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. ” She said. ’ She pronounced the name with painstaking accuracy, Gerald noticed. 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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