"God in Heaven bless you, unhappy boy!" cried. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. "You forgot your lunch," she said. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when any trifling misunderstanding arises between us. 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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