My poor girl came to live with me in a room in Hill Street.
I've never spoken to you of her, but you shall hear it all now, cost me what it may in the telling.

Of course she was out of a poor home, and she'd known as well as me what it was to go cold and hungry.

I sometimes think, Sidney, I can see a look of her in Jane's face--but she was prettier than Jane; yes, yes, prettier than Jane.

And to think a man could treat a poor little thing like her the way I did!--you don't know what sort of a man Michael Snowdon was then; no, you don't know what I was then.

You're not to think I ill-used her in the common way; I never raised my hand, thank God! and I never spoke a word a man should be ashamed of.