She found he was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that she had not meddled with the matter.
And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but he was the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which she felt most sorry and most frightened.

Richard was very bad, to be sure, but he would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out well, she would be the gainer.

As to "this girl for whom his heart was sick," she had no manner of patience with her or pity for her.
"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard future, no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about her, Fate finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard without loving him (nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that sort of marriage was); hard, if she married the German, to suffer a lifetime of poverty and ill-temper and jealous fury.

But about all that, Sophie did not care a straw.

She knew how much women could live through, and it seemed to be their business to be wretched.
But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he suffered, with his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his possibly involved and unknown antecedents; what was to become of him, in case he could not have this girl of whom six weeks ago he had not heard?
A pretty candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the Wall-street office, for the hand of the young lady trusted to their hospitality--a very pretty candidate--a German tutor--who could sing.