"Thus," replied the prize-fighter. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. ” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged. “What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow. 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. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below.
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