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. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. The Reverend Henry Dolby performed the cermony, and his wife and daughter were witnesses. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back.
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