Had she smiled, he would have brushed past her in silence, but because of her agitated and despairing look, he called her name, and when she turned toward him in bewilderment, held out his hand.

It was a small accident that brought them together--nothing more than the fact that she had stooped to bathe her eyes in the stream before going on to the turnpike.
"Don't go, Judy; you're in trouble, I see, and so am I," he said with bitterness.
"Oh, Mr.Revercomb!" she blurted out.

"I didn't want anybody to catch me in such a pass!" "I'm not anybody, Judy; I'm a poor devil that was born without sense enough to plough his furrow straight." She was a plain woman, but a pretty one would have sent him off in a panic over the meadow.

He had had his lesson from a pretty woman, and the immediate effect of it was to foster the delusion that there was a mysterious affinity between ugliness and virtue.
"Tell me what it is, Judy.

Can I help you ?" he said kindly.
"It's nothin'.