He did not particularly care. I am a man—of a sort of experience. " "And that's true," rejoined Mrs. 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. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. She's too pretty and unusual. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths.
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