” “I think it is very good of me to come this afternoon. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. 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. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. Never did I need a rescue so much. Jackson, to the swig. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself.
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