Mrs. Vanderpool lay in the quiet darkened room with a puzzled smile on
her lips. A month ago she had not dreamed that human interest in anybody
would take so strong a hold upon her as her liking for Zora had done.
She was a woman of unusual personal charm, but her own interest and
affections were seldom stirred. Had she been compelled to earn a living
she would have made a successful teacher or manipulator of men. As it
was, she viewed the human scene with detached and cynical interest. She
had no children, few near relations, a husband who went his way and
still was a gentleman.
Essentially Mrs. Vanderpool was unmoral. She held the code of her social
set with sportsmanlike honor; but even beyond this she stooped to no
intrigue, because none interested her. She had all the elements of power
save the motive for doing anything in particular. For the first time,
perhaps, Zora gave her life a peculiar human interest. She did not love
the girl, but she was intensely interested in her; some of the interest
was selfish, for Zora was going to be a perfect maid. The girl's
language came to be more and more like Mrs. Vanderpool's; her dress and
taste in adornment had been Mrs. Vanderpool's first care, and it led to
a curious training in art and sense of beauty until the lady now and
then found herself learner before the quick suggestiveness of Zora's
mind.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263