“I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. ” Ennison nodded. 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. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon.
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