All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. 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. In the upper hall he paused to listen. "I haven't a word to say, Ah Cum, not a word. My servant. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks.
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