Ann Veronica’s appearance was brief and undistinguished. 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. ‘Until today. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. I'm burning up. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations.
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