"You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. "I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham. Even Ah Cum had resumed his Oriental shell of reserve. She will not confide in me. 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. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. I've opened the case of books. Milky sunlight spilled on the floor.
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