Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. 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 main idea now is of the future. Until she had left her island, what she heard and what she saw were truths. She glanced into his face. "They'll escape. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations.
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