Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. He seemed to be trying to understand something very perplexing and elusive. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. “I don’t think our engagement can go on,” she plunged, and felt exactly that loss of breath that comes with a dive into icy water.
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