Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. 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. "Farewell for ever," said Jack, extending his hand to Mrs. You refuse me your confidence.
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