Hester was evidently recovering.
"Mr.Scarlett was saying last night that no one can help any one," continued Hester, turning her white, exhausted face to her friend.

"He said that we are always so placed that we can only look on.

And I told him that could not be true, but, oh, in my heart, Rachel, I have felt it was true all these long, long five years since you have lived here." Rachel came and stood beside her at the little window.

There was just room for them between the type-writer and the bed.
Far below, Hester's brougham was pacing up and down.
"Then are love and sympathy nothing ?" she said.

"Those are the real gifts.