Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. And, lastly, there's Mr. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. 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. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. Wood. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned.
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