The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. She had lost it. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. " "Mr. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. 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. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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