Forgetting the many times when he had revolted from advice merely because it was "sensible," he began calmly to arrange his life in accordance with that law of practical expediency against which a month ago he had so hotly rebelled.
As they drove out of the woods, and turned into the sunken road beyond the ordinary which led in the direction of Solomon Hatch's farm, he withdrew his gaze from the head of his mare and looked attentively at his companion.
"I hope you are having an easier time, Judy," he said.
Her eyes brimmed.

"You are the only person who cares about that, Abel." "Why shouldn't I care?
You are the best and the cleverest girl I know," he returned.
Her gratitude fanned his sympathy, which was beginning to smoulder, and he felt again the pleasant sense of being in the position of benefactor rather than of the benefited.

His eyes rested without shrinking on her sallow face, with the faint bluish tinge to the eyelids, and on her scant drab coloured hair, which was combed smoothly back from her forehead--and while he looked his pity clothed itself in the softer and gentler aspect of reason.

"She ought to be happy," he thought.

"It's a shame they should lead her such a life! It's a shame some good man doesn't fall in love with her and marry her.