"Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. ” “When?” “At tea. " "Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Wood. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. 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. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster.
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