The hurricane had now reached its climax. “Take off your tunic. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. "I am only fit for such as him. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. 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. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat.
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