In the utter
negation of her life she had wished that something would happen, and
so much had happened and so swiftly that she was bewildered. The
strangest thing of all was the change in herself. Lovers of the
Whately and Maynard type could only repel by their tactics. She was
too high-spirited to submit to the one, and too simple and sincere,
still too much of a child, to feel anything but annoyance at the
sentimental gallantry of the other. The genial spirit of comradeship
in Scoville, could it have been maintained through months of
ordinary life, would probably have prepared the way for deeper
feeling on the part of both, but there had been no time for the
gradual development of goodwill and friendly understanding into
something more. They had been caught in an unexpected whirl of
events and swept forward into relations utterly unforeseen. He owed
his escape from much dreaded captivity and his very life to her,
and, as he had said, these facts, to her generous nature, were even
more powerful in their influence than if she herself had received
the priceless favors.
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