Don't laugh, gentle reader, at the conjugal embrace of that middle-aged pair, which seals the quarrel about the Irish girl; but believe me, there is more real sentiment in it than in most of the love-scenes you may have read about.
Mrs Prothero took advantage of her husband's approval of Gladys's exterior to send her out into the garden in the evening to breathe the air, and afterwards into the fields.

The girl's strength gradually returned, but with it there appeared to be no return of youth or hope.

A settled melancholy was in her countenance and demeanour; and when Netta rallied her on being so sad and silent, her reply was, 'Oh, miss, there is no more joy or happiness for me in this world! all I love have left it, and I am but a lonely wanderer and an outcast!' When the shirts were finished, it was time to think of her departure, for she had exhausted all the sewing-work of the house.

Mrs Prothero could not bear to turn the friendless, homeless girl adrift on the world.

She ventured upon the subject one day at dinner.
'What will become of her, David?
And she so beautiful! I declare I think I never saw a prettier girl.' 'Well, mother, who will you call pretty next ?' said Owen, who had seen her once or twice by chance.