Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. 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. " "The pianist?" "Yes. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. She was shifting, moving back. Sheppard. Long ago. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us.
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