The hills surrounded her cave home protectively. It filled her with indefinable fear. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. I applaud your prudence: it is, however, needless. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. 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. This adventure of yours has gone on altogether too long; it has become a serious distress to both your aunt and myself. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat.
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