148 “Sure. Well, this is OUR thing. After that time nothing shall save you. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. When John’s parents weren’t home, they made love in his bedroom. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. An incredible road he had elected to travel; he granted that it was incredible; and along this road somewhere would be Desire. " "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. But this was a vicomte’s sister. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. ‘I’ve had enough of this. ” “But—” “He left her alone. 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 six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen.
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