She must not tell Martha about Gerald. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. “Look here,” he cried out of a silence, with a sudden flash of understanding, “did you mean to throw me over when you came out with me this afternoon?” Ann Veronica hesitated, and with a startled mind realized the truth. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. 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. The unequal battle went on. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. You cannot refuse me this.
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