If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. 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. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ” “She can barely move! You took her limbs!” “You provided her with new ones, my dear. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child.
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