"I do," replied Sheppard. “Mr. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. " "Ah, yes. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. 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. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him.
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