If they are not obvious errors, they are left as in the original. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. “Have you not missed me?” He inquired. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. 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.
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