Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. But, be like a son to her. 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. "Sorry you're obliged to keep your word.
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