In regard to feminine beauty he had his own ideas, and his own inclinations.

He was by no means indifferent to such attraction.

But Marie Melmotte, from that point of view, was nothing to him.

Such prettiness as belonged to her came from the brightness of her youth, and from a modest shy demeanour joined to an incipient aspiration for the enjoyment of something in the world which should be her own.

There was, too, arising within her bosom a struggle to be something in the world, an idea that she, too, could say something, and have thoughts of her own, if only she had some friend near her whom she need not fear.