W," said Mr. Grace à Leonardo, she could defend herself now! Gosse was still attempting to manhandle the door, when she turned the key and wrenched it open. Marvel. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. 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. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird.
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