There were slight inherited traits of both in her, but they were rudimentary.

She was too full of wonder and desire to be greedy.
She still looked about her upon the great maze of the city without understanding.

Hurstwood felt the bloom and the youth.

He picked her as he would the fresh fruit of a tree.

He felt as fresh in her presence as one who is taken out of the flash of summer to the first cool breath of spring.
Carrie, left alone since the scene in question, and having no one with whom to counsel, had at first wandered from one strange mental conclusion to another, until at last, tired out, she gave it up.