“So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. Good-bye, aunt. ” “She’ll meet somebody one of these days—walking about like that. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this. She smiled. I am. "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. "I shall need little more. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. 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.
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