Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. “But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. 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. G. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. ’ ‘How can you possibly enquire for her?’ demanded Hilary acidly. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least.
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