His homeliness no longer offended her acquired tastes; his comparative want of so-called culture did not now jar on her intellect; his country dress even pleased her eye; his exterior roughness fascinated her.

Having discovered by marriage how much that was humanly not great could co-exist with attainments of an exceptional order, there was a revulsion in her sentiments from all that she had formerly clung to in this kind: honesty, goodness, manliness, tenderness, devotion, for her only existed in their purity now in the breasts of unvarnished men; and here was one who had manifested them towards her from his youth up.
There was, further, that never-ceasing pity in her soul for Giles as a man whom she had wronged--a man who had been unfortunate in his worldly transactions; while, not without a touch of sublimity, he had, like Horatio, borne himself throughout his scathing "As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing." It was these perceptions, and no subtle catching of her husband's murmurs, that had bred the abstraction visible in her.
When her father approached the house after witnessing the interview between Fitzpiers and Mrs.Charmond, Grace was looking out of her sitting-room window, as if she had nothing to do, or think of, or care for.

He stood still.
"Ah, Grace," he said, regarding her fixedly.
"Yes, father," she murmured.
"Waiting for your dear husband ?" he inquired, speaking with the sarcasm of pitiful affection.
"Oh no--not especially.

He has a great many patients to see this afternoon." Melbury came quite close.

"Grace, what's the use of talking like that, when you know--Here, come down and walk with me out in the garden, child." He unfastened the door in the ivy-laced wall, and waited.