Mrs.
Hewett sat on the bed, and bent forward in an attitude of physical weakness.

Her age was twenty-seven, but she looked several years older.
At nineteen she had married; her husband, John Hewett, having two children by a previous union.

Her face could never have been very attractive, but it was good-natured, and wore its pleasantest aspect as she smiled on Sidney's entrance.

You would have classed her at once with those feeble-willed, weak-minded, yet kindly-disposed women, who are only too ready to meet affliction half-way, and who, if circumstances be calamitous, are more harmful than an enemy to those they hold dear.

She was rather wrapped up than dressed, and her hair, thin and pale-coloured, was tied in a ragged knot.