I'm sure you ought to have a change.

My mother was never well here; though, for the matter of that, she was never very well anywhere.

I suppose it's the laboratory that attracts me here, as it did my father, playing with the ancient forces of the world in these Arcadian surroundings--Arcady without beauty or Arcadians." He glanced up at his mother's picture.
"No, she never liked it--a very silent woman, secretive almost." Suddenly her eyes flared up.

Anger possessed her.

She choked it down.
Secretive--the poor bruised soul who had gone to her grave with a broken heart! "She secretive?
No, Eglington," she rejoined gravely, "she was congealed.