" "Impracticable dolt!" exclaimed Jonathan, furiously. You are right. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. 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. Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “In private. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look.
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