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“You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed. 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 are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. I knew it. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. ” She replied.
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