Now this clear-eyed, fine-headed youth, who looked something like a student to her, made fun of it.

It was poor to him, not worth reading.

She looked down, and for the first time felt the pain of not understanding.
Yet there was nothing sarcastic or supercilious in the way Ames spoke.
He had very little of that in him.

Carrie felt that it was just kindly thought of a high order--the right thing to think, and wondered what else was right, according to him.

He seemed to notice that she listened and rather sympathized with him, and from now on he talked mostly to her.
As the waiter bowed and scraped about, felt the dishes to see if they were hot enough, brought spoons and forks, and did all those little attentive things calculated to impress the luxury of the situation upon the diner, Ames also leaned slightly to one side and told her of Indianapolis in an intelligent way.