An ugly flush stained his cheeks. " "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. 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. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside.
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