He did not even notice that he passed Ida Mayhew, where she stood
among a group of gay chattering young people. Still less did he
know that she had been furtively watching his interview with Miss
Burton, and that when he passed her without a glance her face was
as pale as had been that of the object of his thoughts. But he
had not strolled very far down a gravelled path before she compelled
him to distinguish her reckless laugh and tones above all the
others.
With an impatient gesture he muttered, "God made them both, I
suppose; and so there's another mystery."
As Van Berg's interest in Miss Burton had deepened, it had naturally
flagged toward the one whose marvelously fair features had first
caught his attention and now promised to be links in a chain
of causes that might produce effects little anticipated. He had
virtually abandoned the project of seeking to ennoble and harmonize
these features that suggested new possibilities of beauty to almost
every glance, for the reason that he not only believed there was
no mind to be awakened, but also because he had been led to think
the girl so depraved and selfish at heart that the very thought of
a larger, purer life was repugnant to her.
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