When he or
Miss Burton addressed her there was not a trace of coldness in her
manner of responding; a superficial observer would merely think
they were people in whom she was not especially interested.
"Poor child," thought Jennie Burton, "she acts her part well," and
she puzzled the artist still further by taking less notice of Ida
than usual.
"But when I think of it," he mused, "it's just like my unique little
friend. Only those in trouble interest her, and Miss Mayhew is on
a straight road to happiness now, she believes, although the young
lady herself seems to dread a world full of thorns and thistles, and
her father and mother, at least, will insure an abundance of both
in her own home. But her repulsion from Miss Burton, the very one
towards whom I supposed she would be attracted in her new life,
is what perplexes me most. I imagine all women are mysteries when
you come to scrutinize their motives and impulses closely. The two
who have occupied my thoughts this summer certainly are, and I'll
stick to painting if I ever get out of this muddle."
After dinner he found a chance to ask Stanton if Mr. Mayhew was
expected that evening.
"Yes," was the reply.
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