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. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. \"How's it going, Lucy?\" She turned. It’s my choice, Lucy. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other.
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