She saw, for a moment, how
unnatural and unlovely she must appear to him, in spite of her
beauty, and the thought crossed her mind:
"Mr. Van Berg despises me because he sees me in the same light.
How I hate his cold, critical eyes!"
Even at his far remove Van Berg could see that she was ill at
ease during the dinner hour. There would be times of forced and
unnatural gayety, followed by a sudden cloud upon the brow and
an abstracted air, as if her thoughts had naught to do with the
chattering group around her. It would also appear that her appetite
was flagging unusually, and once or twice he thought she darted an
angry look towards him.
As if something were burdening her mind, she at last left the table
hastily, before the others were through with their dessert.
As may be surmised, she sought her father's room. Receiving no response
to her knock, she entered and saw at a glance the confirmation of
her fears. Her father sat in an arm-chair with his head upon his
breast. A brandy bottle stood on the table beside him. At the
sound of her step he looked up for a moment with heavy eyes, and
mumbled:
"He ain't of your style, is he? Nor of mine, either.
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