“I certainly knew him no better than you. “I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. 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. She glimpsed Chinese penury when she entered a square given over to the fishmongers. He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. “Go on,” he said.
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