Not only that she had put aside her sad-coloured and poor raiment for a costume of tasteful and attractive simplicity--this, of course, her mother's doing--but the look of shrinking, almost of fear, which he had been wont to see on her face, was entirely gone.

Her eyes seemed for ever intelligent of new meanings; she was pale, but with the pallor of eager, joy-bringing thought.

There was something pathetic in this new-born face; the lips seemed still to speak of past sorrows, or, it might be, to hold unspoken a sad fate half-foreseen.
If this renewal of acquaintanceship came just at the right time for Maud, it was no less welcome to Waymark.

When he wrote his last letter to her, it had proceeded more from a sense of obligation than any natural impulse.

For he was then only just recovering from a period of something like despair.