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"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. "Yes?" "And that when they give their word, they never break it. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. " "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl. Courtlaw rose to his feet. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. 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. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls.
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