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Updated: June 14, 2025
But the fact anomalously incensed him as a slight to the girl, who might have been still more sacrificed by Jeff's constancy. He forced himself to add: "I fancy Mrs. Vostrand doesn't know herself." "I wish I didn't know where I was going to be," said Jeff. "Well, good-bye, Mr. Westover. I'll see you in Boston." "Oh, good-bye."
Vostrand, with a burst of frankness, "he thinks you don't like him." "He's wrong," said Westover. "But I might dislike him very much." "I see what you mean," said Mrs. Vostrand, "and I'm glad you've been so frank with me. I've been so interested in Mr. Durgin, so interested! Isn't he very young?" The question seemed a bit of indirection to Westover. But he answered directly enough.
The painter freed himself from his brush and palette for a parting handshake, reluctantly. Jeff plunged down the hill, waving a final adieu from the corner of the hotel before he vanished round it. Mrs. Vostrand and her daughter were at breakfast when Westover came in after the early light had been gone some time.
Vostrand, with all her babble, had done fewer foolish things than her husband, but here Westover felt his judgment disabled by the fact that he had never met her husband; and his mind began to wander to a question of her daughter, whom he had there before him.
"Well!" said Whitwell. "How very amusing!" said Mrs. Vostrand. "What a small world it is!" With these words she fell into a vagary; her daughter recalled her from it with a slight movement. "Breakfast? How impatient you are, Genevieve! Well!" She smiled the sweetest parting to Whitwell, and suffered herself to be led away by Jeff. "And you're at Harvard? I'm so interested!
Vostrand, with all her babble, had done fewer foolish things than her husband, but here Westover felt his judgment disabled by the fact that he had never met her husband; and his mind began to wander to a question of her daughter, whom he had there before him.
He had decided pretty finally that it would be Bessie rather than another when he received a letter from Mrs. Vostrand.
Society, in the sense of good society, can always take care of itself, and does so perfectly. In the case of Mrs. Vostrand some ladies who liked Westover and wished to be civil to him asked her and her daughter to other afternoon teas, shook hands with them at their coming, and said, when they went, they were sorry they must be going so soon.
Until now, however, her position had not really concerned Westover, and it would not have concerned him now, if it had not been for a design that formed itself in his mind as soon as he knew that Mrs. Vostrand meant to pass the winter in Boston.
Jeff set his teeth and compressed his lips to bear as best he could, the give-away which his mother could not appreciate in its importance to him: "They're not the kind of people to take such a thing shabbily," said Westover. "They didn't happen to mention it, but Mrs. Vostrand must have got used to seeing young fellows in straits of all kinds during her life abroad.
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