" Then she raised her voice and said
to Quisante, "I'm telling Mr. Marchmont that I shall expect to see him
often at our house."
Quisante seconded her invitation with more than adequate enthusiasm; if
Marchmont were converted to him, who could still be obstinate? The two
men began to talk, May falling more and more into silence. She did not
accuse Marchmont of deliberate malice, but by chance or the freak of some
mischievous demon everything he said led Quisante on to display his
weaknesses. She knew that Marchmont marked them every one; he was too
well bred to show his consciousness by so much as the most fleeting
glance at her; yet she could have met such a glance with understanding,
yes, with sympathy, and would have had to summon up by artificial effort
the resentment that convention demanded of her. The sight of the two men
brought home to her with a new and an almost terrible sharpness the
divorce between her emotional liking and her intellectual interest. And
in a matter which all experience declared to concern the emotions
primarily, she had elected to give foremost place to the intellect, to
suffer under an ever recurring jar of the feelings for the sake of an
occasional treat to the brain.
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