. ’ He fitted the hat onto her head, and was aware as he did so of her eyes watching his face. ’ ‘I see now how it was that Marthe knew of the secret passage,’ Melusine said. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. “You may find in it a paragraph of some interest to you. Not entirely. 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. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. “Stop! Don’t put your face there.
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