“I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. 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. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. And so sudden and well-directed was the assault, that he completely overthrew his gigantic antagonist. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood.
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