She belonged to the lowest class of seaport inhabitants.

As she came near, Sylvia saw that the tears were streaming down her cheeks, quite unconsciously to herself.

She recognized Sylvia's face, full of interest as it was, and stopped her clumsy run to speak to the pretty, sympathetic creature.
'She's o'er t' bar! She's o'er t' bar! I'm boun' to tell mother!' She caught at Sylvia's hand, and shook it, and went on breathless and gasping.
'Sylvia, how came you to know that girl ?' asked Philip, sternly.
'She's not one for you to be shaking hands with.

She's known all down t' quay-side as "Newcastle Bess."' 'I can't help it,' said Sylvia, half inclined to cry at his manner even more than his words.

'When folk are glad I can't help being glad too, and I just put out my hand, and she put out hers.