It was easy for Hare to see that the man's evil nature
was in the ascendancy only when he was under the dominance of drink.
But he could not forgive; he could not forget. Mescal's dark, beautiful
eyes haunted him. Even now she might be married to this man. Perhaps
that was why Snap appeared to be in such cheerful spirits. Suspense
added its burdensome insistent question, but he could not bring himself
to ask August if the marriage had taken place. For a day he fought to
resign himself to the inevitability of the Mormon custom, to forget
Mescal, and then he gave up trying. This surrender he felt to be
something crucial in his life, though he could not wholly understand it.
It was the darkening of his spirit; the death of boyish gentleness; the
concluding step from youth into a forced manhood. The desert
regeneration had not stopped at turning weak lungs, vitiated blood, and
flaccid muscles into a powerful man; it was at work on his mind, his
heart, his soul. They answered more and more to the call of some
outside, ever-present, fiercely subtle thing.
Thenceforth he no longer vexed himself by trying to forget Mescal; if she
came to mind he told himself the truth, that the weeks and months had
only added to his love.
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