His delicacy had kept him from asking any question about her at any time, and it was exactly the same virtue that had left him so free to be decently civil to her at the concert.
This happy advantage now served him anew, enabling him when she finally met his eyes--it was after a fourth trial--to predetermine quite fixedly his awaiting her retreat.

He joined her in the street as soon as she had moved, asking her if he might accompany her a certain distance.

With her placid permission he went as far as a house in the neighbourhood at which she had business: she let him know it was not where she lived.

She lived, as she said, in a mere slum, with an old aunt, a person in connexion with whom she spoke of the engrossment of humdrum duties and regular occupations.

She wasn't, the mourning niece, in her first youth, and her vanished freshness had left something behind that, for Stransom, represented the proof it had been tragically sacrificed.