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‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. “I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. 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. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. . "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
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