He would be a friend such as she had never known before.

There would be no vain weeping, no womanish wailing in her; her grief was too deep for that.
And he would respect it; he would spare her all the pain he could.

At this moment, if Roland could have risen from the dead, he would have clasped him in his arms, and wept upon his neck, as the father welcomed his prodigal son.
Felicita did not speak when she entered the room, but looked at him with a steadfastness in her dark sad eyes which again dimmed his with tears.
Almost fondly he pressed her hands in his, and led her to a chair, and placed another near enough for him to speak to her in a low and quiet voice, altogether unlike the awful tones he used in the bank, which made the clerks quail before him.

His hand trembled as he took the little photographs out of their envelope, so worn and stained, and laid them before her.

She looked at them with tearless eyes, and let them fall upon her lap as things of little interest.
"Phebe has told you ?" he said pitifully.
"Yes," she whispered.
"You did not know before ?" he said.
She shook her head mutely.