e way.

The change in his attitude toward her which she had noted first during
their walk that morning had not diminished since his talk with her
father but, plainly, had increased. He was almost openly now including
her among those who opposed him. As that feeling which she called
sympathy had come to her when she realized that what he himself had
suffered must be the reason for his attitude toward her father, so now
it only came more strongly when she saw him take the same attitude
toward herself; and as she felt it, she found she was feeling more and
more away from Donald Avery. Donald's manner toward Eaton was forcing
her to invoice exactly the materials of her companionship with Donald.

Before Eaton's entrance into her life she had supposed that some time,
as a matter of course, she was going to marry Donald. In spite of
this, she had never thought of herself as apart from her father; when
she thought of marrying, it had been always with the idea that her duty
to her husband must be secondary to that to her father; she knew now
that she had accepted Donald Avery not because he had become necessary
to her but because he had seemed essential to her father and her
marrying Donald would permit her life to go on much as it was. Till
recently, Avery's complaisance, his certainty that it must be only a
matter of time before he would win her, had been the most
definite--almost the only definable--fault she had found with her
father's confidential agent; now her sense of many other faults in him
only marked the distance she had drawn away from him. If Harriet
Santoine could define her own present estimate of Avery, it was that he
did not differ in any essential particular from those men whose
correspondence had so horrified her that afternoon.

Donald had social position and a certain amount of wealth and power;
now suddenly she was feeling that he had nothing but those things, that
his own unconscious admission was that to be worth while he must have
them, that to retain and increase them was his only object in life.
She had the feeling that these were the only things he would fight for;
but that for these he would fight--fairly, perhaps, if he could--but,
if he must, unfairly, despicably.

She had finished dinner, but she hesitated to rise and leave the men
alone; after-dinner cigars and the fiction of a masculine conversation
about the table were insisted on by Blatchford. As she delayed,
looking across the t