She had no colour, no sound, no fault, and another of the things about which he had made up his mind was that she had no fortune.

Always black-robed, she must have had a succession of sorrows.

People weren't poor, after all, whom so many losses could overtake; they were positively rich when they had had so much to give up.
But the air of this devoted and indifferent woman, who always made, in any attitude, a beautiful accidental line, conveyed somehow to Stransom that she had known more kinds of trouble than one.
He had a great love of music and little time for the joy of it; but occasionally, when workaday noises were muffled by Saturday afternoons, it used to come back to him that there were glories.

There were moreover friends who reminded him of this and side by side with whom he found himself sitting out concerts.

On one of these winter afternoons, in St.
James's Hall, he became aware after he had seated himself that the lady he had so often seen at church was in the place next him and was evidently alone, as he also this time happened to be.