She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. The boat in which he rode was not overset. 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. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. ” The lady in black satin appeared undecided.
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