Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. It took a long two minutes for Michelle to die, and she struggled hard before she was put down. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. He forces an engagement upon 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. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me.
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