He was an imaginative young man. But probably not the truth. You must think it over. 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. That any human being could conceive and execute such a thing! A Roundhead, here in these prosaic times!—and mad as a hatter! Trying the rôle of St. ” “John, do you remember me at all?” “Lucy?!” He cried in disbelief. ” “I do not know who he is,” Brendon said quietly, “but he will not forget.
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