Here they all came to a stand-still, and wiped the dews of honest labour from their foreheads; and here Maulevrier flung himself down upon a big boulder, with the soles of his stout shooting boots in running water, and took out his cigar case.
'How do you like it ?' he asked his friend, when he had lighted his cigarette.

'I hope you are enjoying yourself.' 'I never was happier in my life,' answered Hammond.
He was standing on higher ground, with Mary at his elbow, pointing out and expatiating upon the details of the prospect.

There were the lakes--Grasmere, a disk of shining blue; Rydal, a patch of silver; and Windermere winding amidst a labyrinth of wooded hills.
'Aren't you tired ?' asked Maulevrier.
'Not a whit.' 'Oh, I forgot you had done Cotapaxi, or as much of Cotapaxi as living mortal ever has done.

That makes a difference.

I am going home.' 'Oh, Maulevrier!' exclaimed Mary, piteously.
'I am going home.