” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. 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. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. "She tells me there was a Kanaka cook; been in the family as long as she can remember. " "I always detested Mrs. .
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