She regretted nothing that had come, nothing that had gone.

She believed more and more that not anything worth having is ever lost; that even the most evanescent shades of feeling are safe for those who grow after their true nature, toward that for which they were made--in other and higher words, after the will of God.
But she did for a moment taste some bitterness in her cup, when, one day, on the footpath of Testbridge, near the place where, that memorable Sunday, she met Mr.Wardour, she met him again, and, looking at her, and plainly recognizing her, he passed without salutation.

Like a sudden wave the blood rose to her face, and then sank to the deeps of her heart; and from somewhere came the conviction that one day the destiny of Godfrey Wardour would be in her hands: he had done more for her than any but her father; and, when that day was come, he should not find her fail him! She was then on her way to the shop.

She did not at all relish entering it, but, as she had a large money-interest in the business; she ought at least, she said to herself, to pay the place a visit.

When she went in, Turnbull did not at first recognize her, and, taking her for a customer, blossomed into repulsive suavity.