He preferred to see Paulina Maria, though between her and himself a covert antagonism survived the open one of his boyhood--at least, he could dislike her without disliking himself.
The candle-light fell full upon Paulina Maria's face, which was even more transparent than formerly; so transfused was her clear profile by the candle-light that the outlines seemed almost to waver and be lost.

She was knitting a fine white cotton stocking in an intricate pattern, and did not look at Jerome, or speak to him, beyond her first nod of recognition when he entered.
Presently, however, Jerome turned to her.

"How is Henry ?" he inquired.
"About the same," she replied, in her clear voice, which was unexpectedly loud, and seemed to have a curious after-tone.
"His eyes are no worse, then ?" "No worse, and no better." "Can't he do any more than he did last year ?" asked Mrs.Edwards.
"No, he can't.

He hasn't been able to do a stitch on shoes since last Thanksgiving.

He can't do anything but sit at the window and knit plain knittin'.