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. You'll find me at supper. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. " "Somebody coming?" "Yes. This time you cannot. ’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before.
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