His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ” He paused with a sense of ineptitude. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. Sorry. 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. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected.
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