It does not matter to him either way. " "Mr. S. Then the girl was heading past the inn and Roding marched down to confront her. You are my prisoner, murderer. ’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. 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. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. I must practise what I preach. Hey. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days.
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