Gilby had explained other things to her, small practical things, such as some points in English grammar, some principles of taste in woman's dress, how to choose the wools for her knitting, how to make muffins for his tea.

It was his kindly, conceited, didactic nature that made him instruct whenever he talked to her.

Zilda learned it all, and learned also to admire and love the author of such wisdom.
It was not his fault; it was not hers.

It was the result of his gorgeous watch-chain and his fine clothes and his worldly knowledge, and also of the fact that because of his strict notions and conceited pride it never occurred to him to be gallant or to make love to her.

Zilda, the hotel-keeper's daughter, was accustomed to men who offered her light gallantry.