He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. We shall see. 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. He might solve the riddle. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. " "That's not my game.
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