He gazed for some time, not without a sense of villainy, while she continued her sweetly monotonous reading.

If his heart had been as hard as the iron swivel-balls that lay beside Alice, he must still have felt a thrill of something like tender sympathy.

She now showed no trace of the vivacious sauciness which had heretofore always marked her features when she was in his presence.

A dainty gentleness, touched with melancholy, gave to her face an appealing look all the more powerful on account of its unconscious simplicity of expression.
The man felt an impulse pure and noble, which would have borne him back down the ladder and away from the building, had not a stronger one set boldly in the opposite direction.

There was a short struggle with the seared remnant of his better nature, and then he tried to open the door; but it was locked.
Alice heard the slight noise and breaking off her reading turned to look.