"What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. 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. ‘C’est ridicule. I stole away and walked to the railway station.
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