She felt, though she seldom expressed them, sad thoughts upon this score.

Her sympathies were ever with that under-world of toil from which she had so recently sprung, and which she best understood.
Though Hurstwood did not know it, he was dealing with one whose feelings were as tender and as delicate as this.

He did not know, but it was this in her, after all, which attracted him.

He never attempted to analyze the nature of his affection.

It was sufficient that there was tenderness in her eye, weakness in her manner, good nature and hope in her thoughts.