He grew mad with the desire to hold her hand, to touch her, to unburden his heart of its passion for her, to breathe his hope of future possession; but always, when the convenient moment came, he was gently repelled, tenderly hushed, adroitly diverted.

He knew the devil was in her; he believed that she was fond of him, and thus knowing and believing, he was at his wit's end to guess why she should be so persistently perverse.

He had drank that day, and was not so easily managed as usual, and she had a hard task to hold him to his proprieties.

There was only one way to do this, and that was to assume the pathetic.
Then she told him of her lonely day, her lack of employment, her wish that she could be of some use in the world, and, finally, she wondered whether Mrs.Belcher would like to have her, Mrs.Dillingham, receive with her on New Year's Day.

If that lady would not consider it an intrusion, she should be happy to shut her own house, and thus be able to present all the gentlemen of the city worth knowing, not only to Mrs.
Belcher, but to her husband.
To have Mrs.Dillingham in the house for a whole day, and particularly to make desirable acquaintances so easily, was a rare privilege.