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 must not remain here," he said. Too much blood has been shed already. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. "Much better," said Mrs. ‘Very inventive. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. But not today. I believe I’m in love.
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