Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. 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. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. "She is my lawful wife. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls.
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