But pathologically, he is still on the edge. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. CHAPTER XXVII. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. 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. She doubted if Manning would even listen to that.
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