“You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. 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. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. ’ He flushed. “I’ll buy a new one. ” “Of how beautiful my children would be?” He finished her sentence. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now.
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