Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. 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. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed.
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