Poverty-stricken wretch that he was, he should have declined.

Now he could not; being a simple Englishman, he had given his word and meant to abide by it.
There was one glimmer of hope; her father.

He was a practical merchant and would not permit a man without a past (often worse than a man with one) to enter his establishment.
Thomas was not in love with Kitty.

(Indeed, this isn't a love story at all.) Stewards, three days out, are not in the habit of falling in love with their charges (Maundering and Drool notwithstanding).

He was afraid of her; she vaguely alarmed him; that was all.
For seven years he had dwelt in his "third floor back"; had breakfasted and dined with two old maids, their scrawny niece, and a muscular young stenographer who shouted militant suffrage and was not above throwing a brickbat whenever the occasion arrived.