Ralph was not unmoved as he stood by the forlorn little man, and clasped his hands in his own and felt the warm tears fall over them.
As the young dalesman was leaving the cottage that morning, he encountered in the porch the subject of the conversation, who was entering in.

Taking him firmly but quietly by the shoulder, he led him back a few paces.

Sim had leapt up from his bench, and was peering eagerly through the window.

But Ralph did no violence to his lodger.
He was saying something with marked emphasis, but the words escaped the tailor's ears.

Wilson was answering nothing.