A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. 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 agreed entirely with her brother. "He stands before you," rejoined her son. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware.
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