The ladies were crossing Kew Green; doubtless they would enter the Gardens to spend the afternoon there.

Would it not be pleasant to join them, to walk by Bertha's side, to talk freely with her, forgetting the counter, which always restrained their conversation?
Bertha was nicely dressed, though one saw that her clothes cost nothing.

In the old days, if he had noticed her at all she would have seemed to him rather a pretty girl of the lower middle class, perhaps a little less insignificant than her like; now she shone for him against a background of "customers," the one in whom he saw a human being of his own kind, and who, within the imposed limits, had given proof of admitting his humanity.

He saw her turn to look at her mother, and smile; a smile of infinite kindness and good-humour.

Involuntarily his own lips responded; he walked on smiling--smiling.
They passed through the gates; he, at a distance of a dozen yards, still followed.