“Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. ‘Hilary was right. ‘This is not love, Marthe. “I want to have no distractions. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. 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.
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