She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. . She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. McClintock never threw away any advertising matter; in fact, he openly courted pamphlets; and they came from automobile dealers and great mail-order houses, from haberdashers and tailors and manufacturers of hair-tonics, razors, gloves, shoes, open plumbing. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. ’ She sighed. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know.
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