Directly dinner was over Mr. Winifred instantly picked it up. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. Not then. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. "I will not submit to be thus interrogated," said Winifred, angrily. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. 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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