happier than herself,
wearing beautiful garments, and "hair that was let to grow," she saw
those about her now whom life infolded with a grace and loveliness she
might not look for; about whom fair , "let to grow," clustered
radiant, and enshrined them in their light.

She saw always something that was beyond; something she might not
attain; yet, expectant of nothing, but blindly true to the highest
within her, she lost no glimpse of the greater, through lowering herself
to the less.

Her  of womanhood asserted itself; wordnetdesire, ignorantly, for a 
wordnetdesire. "To be cared for, so!"

But she would rather recognize it afar--rather have her  in knowing
the  that might be--than shut herself from knowledge in the content
of a common, sordid lot.

She did not think this deliberately, however; it was not reason, but
instinct. She renounced unconsciously. She bore denial, and never knew
she was denied.

Of course, the thought of daring to covet what she saw, had never
crossed her, in her . It was quite away from her. It was
something with which she had nothing to do. "But it must be beautiful to
be like Miss Faith." And she thanked God, mutely