"And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. McClintock says they can't get in there, or at least they never try it. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself.
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