The Prince of Wales's hotel yonder sparkled with its many lights, like a castle in a fairy tale.

The stranger had looked upon many a grander scene, but on none more lovely.
Here were lake and mountain in little, without the snow-peaks and awful inaccessible regions of solitude and peril; homely hills that one might climb, placid English vales in which English poets have lived and died.
'Hammond and I mean to spend a month or six weeks with you, if you can make us comfortable,' said Maulevrier.
'I am delighted to hear that you can contemplate staying a month anywhere,' replied her ladyship.

'Your usual habits are as restless as if your life were a disease.

It shall not be my fault if you and Mr.
Hammond are uncomfortable at Fellside.' There was courtesy, but no cordiality in the reply.

If Mr.Hammond was a sensitive man, touchily conscious of his own obscurity, he must have felt that he was not wanted at Fellside--that he was an excrescence, matter in the wrong place.
Nobody had presented the stranger to Lady Mary.