On the verge of love--in love itself--is a boundless capacity for sympathy.

She turned to go upstairs, still feeling pity for him in the pain she had unavoidably caused him.

She did not realize that this was simply a reflection, the first shadowing of her love for Traill, that sought any outlet in which to find expression.
In the bedroom, Janet was making a strange costume for a student's fancy dress ball.

She did not look up when Sally entered.

With her inexperienced needle, the work occupied her whole attention.