" "Bull's eye!" piped O'Higgins. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. 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 first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered.
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