The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. 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. ’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. Spurling, drily.
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