Whatever good woman thus ventured, overstepping the metes and bounds of sex and status, he deemed did so of wantonness.

And wantonness of such order was akin to--well, he could not say it when thinking of Frona, though she hurt him often by her unwise acts.

However, he only felt such hurts when away from her.

When with her, looking into her eyes which always looked back, or at greeting and parting pressing her hand which always pressed honestly, it seemed certain that there was in her nothing but goodness and truth.
And then he liked her in many different ways for many different things.
For her impulses, and for her passions which were always elevated.

And already, from breathing the Northland air, he had come to like her for that comradeship which at first had shocked him.