She looked straight in front of her, and her absent eyes fell on Mr.Tristram sitting opposite, talking somewhat sulkily to Miss Barker.

Rachel looked steadily at him.
Mr.Tristram had been handsome once, and four years had altered him but little in that respect.

He had not yet grown stout, but it was evident that Nature had that injury in reserve for him.

To grow stout is not necessarily to look common, but if there is an element of inherent commonness in man or woman, a very little additional surface will make it manifest, as an enlarged photograph magnifies its own defects.

The "little more and how much it is" had come upon the unhappy Tristram, once the slimmest of the slim.