Again it came over her, when she saw the brightness, the
happy look, the girl brought back, as it had done in the earlier months,
that the great trouble was that weak spot of Verena's, that sole
infirmity and subtle flaw, which she had expressed to her very soon
after they began to live together, in saying (she remembered it through
the ineffaceable impression made by her friend's avowal), "I'll tell you
what is the matter with you--you don't dislike men as a class!" Verena
had replied on this occasion, "Well, no, I don't dislike them when they
are pleasant!" As if organised atrociousness could ever be pleasant!
Olive disliked them most when they were least unpleasant. After a
little, at present, she remarked, referring to Henry Burrage: "It is not
right of him, not decent, after your making him feel how, while he was
at Cambridge, he wearied you, tormented you."
"Oh, I didn't show anything," said Verena gaily. "I am learning to
dissimulate," she added in a moment. "I suppose you have to as you go
along. I pretend not to notice."
At this moment the gong sounded for luncheon, and the two young women
covered up their ears, face to face, Verena with her quick smile, Olive
with her pale patience. When they could hear themselves speak, the
latter said abruptly:
"How did Mrs. Burrage come to invite Mr. Ransom to her party? He told
Adeline he had never seen her before."
"Oh, I asked her to send him an invitation--after she had written to me,
to thank me, when it was definitely settled we should come on.
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