Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in his demeanour. I mean to have you! Don’t frown me off now. 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. We have played at a little mild lovemaking again. He has no imagination, no real generosity.
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