The Bassetts were coolly using her to extricate themselves from the embarrassments resulting from their own folly; it was preposterous that they should have sent Sylvia to bring Marian home.
And his rage was intensified by the recollection of the pathos he had himself felt in Bassett that very evening, as he had watched him mount the steps of his home.

Sylvia was causing the old chords to vibrate with full knowledge that, in spite of his avowed contempt for the man, Morton Bassett still roused his curiosity and interest.

It was unfair for Sylvia to take advantage of this.
"Bassett's nothing to me," he said roughly.
"He seems to me the loneliest soul I ever knew," replied Sylvia quietly.
"He deserves it; he's brought himself to that." "I don't believe he's altogether evil.

There must be good in him." "It's because he's so evil that you pity him; it's because of that that I'm sorry for him.

It's because we know that he must be broken upon the wheel before he realizes the vile use he has made of his power that we are sorry for him.