“What is the good of pretending?” she said. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. So the young fool had not told her! McClintock had suspected as much. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. ” He said. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. He would certainly welcome McClintock's advent. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise.
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