But Gilbert knew Lydia well by this time, and no trifling fault could touch his deep affection and respect for her.
She was very lonely in these days, Lydia.

Of her own sex, she had now no friend, unless it were poor old Mrs.Grail.By changing her place of employment, she had lost even the satisfaction of being among familiar faces, and her new work-mates thought her dull.

The jokes and gossip of each morning were things of the past; she plied her needle every moment of the working day, her thoughts fixed on one unchanging subject.

Yes, for she could not really think even of Ackroyd; he was always, it is true, a presence in her mind, but there was no more pondering about him.

Every stitch at the lining of a hat meant a fraction of a coin, and each day's result was to have earned something towards the money saved for Thyrza's assistance.
With Mary Bower she spoke no longer, not even formal words.