didn’t have to. 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 would not have believed me, I know well. I don’t think you understand. His destination was the New Mint. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging.
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