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. It’s all very fine and all that, Vee, this freedom, but it isn’t going to work. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. .
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