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. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. "Ruth?" he called. It took my breath away. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple.
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