A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. We had no idea. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. 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. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
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