Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. 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. With her lived a Mrs.
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