But you must come this way now. 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. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much.
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