Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. ” “Coarse?” said Capes, “We’re not coarse. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. 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.
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