B. Can it ever be so good again?” Ann Veronica put out a firm hand and squeezed his arm. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. “We suspect that Mary is alive, and we think she will try to contact you if she ever tracks you down. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering.
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