He had been faithful to his wife while she lived, even the imagination of love for another woman had not entered his heart.

His wife's faded face had not for a second disturbed his loyalty; but now the beauty of this other woman aroused within him long dormant characteristics, like some wonderful stimulant, not only for the body, but for the soul.

When he looked in Ida Slome's beautiful face he seemed to drink in an elixir of life.
And yet, down at the roots of the man's heart slept the memory of his wife; for Abby Edgham, with her sallow, faded face, had possessed something which Ida Slome lacked, and which the man needed, to hold him.

And always in his mind, at this time, was the intention to be more than kind to his motherless little daughter, not to let her realize any difference in his feeling for her.
When he came to-night, he looked at the sleeping Mrs.Addix, and at Maria, taking painful stitches in her dresser cover, at first with a radiant smile, then with the deepest pity.
"Poor little soul," he said.

"You have had a long evening to yourself, haven't you ?" "I don't mind," replied Maria.