Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. 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.
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