And the encircling arm, the passing hand, the head that came and went, and rose and sank, with her, like twin cherries on a stalk, were the arm, the hand, and the head of Mr.Frederick Coventry.
Every time those two heads flitted past the window together, they inflicted a spasm of agony on Henry Little, and, between the spasms, his thoughts were bitter beyond expression.

An icy barrier still between them, and none between his rival and her! Coventry could dance voluptuously with her before all the world; but he could only stand at the door of that Paradise, and groan and sicken with jealous anguish at the sight.
Now and then he looked up, and saw Jael Dence.

She was alone.

Like him, she was excluded from that brilliant crowd.

He and she were born to work; these butterflies on the first floor, to enjoy.
Their eyes met; he saw soft pity in hers.