So she said: “I won’t come home. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. “Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. 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. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. John, I have something to say to you.
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