There was a winning grace about this Mrs.
Nowell's manner that I had never seen in any other woman; and I grew to be more interested in her than I cared to confess to myself.

It matters little now; and I may freely own how weak I was in those days.
"I could see that she was very ill, and I did not need the ominous hints of the landlady, who had contrived to question Mrs.Nowell's doctor, to inspire me with the dread that she might never recover.

I thought of her a great deal, and watched the fading light in her eyes, and listened to the weakening tones of her voice, with a sense of trouble that seemed utterly disproportionate to the occasion.

I will not say that I loved her; neither the fact that she was another man's wife, nor the fact that she was soon to die, was ever absent from my mind when I thought of her.
I will only say that she was more to me than any woman had ever been before, or has ever been since.

It was the one sentimental episode of my life, and a very brief one.
"The weeks went by, and her husband did not come.