” Anna nodded. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. 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.
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