’ She frowned suddenly. "Devilish nice ham you've got here!—capital pie!—and, as I live, a flask of excellent canary. ” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. 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. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case.
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