Lucy's ears were singing. 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. I’m sorry. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. " "The Black Lion!" echoed Terence. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow.
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