The massive regular features were irreproachable.

He was more sunburnt than a gentleman ought to be, Mary thought.

She told herself that his good looks were of a vulgar quality, like those of Charles Ford, the champion wrestler, whom she saw at the sports the other day.

Why did Maulevrier pick up a companion who was evidently not of his own sphere?
Hoydenish, plain-spoken, frank and affectionate as Mary Haselden was, she knew that she belonged to a race apart, that there were circles beneath circles, below her own world, circles which hers could never touch, and she supposed Mr.Hammond to be some waif from one of those nethermost worlds--a village doctor's son, perhaps, or even a tradesman's--sent to the University by some benevolent busybody, and placed at a disadvantage ever afterwards, an unfortunate anomaly, suspended between two worlds like Mahomet's coffin.
The butler announced that his lordship's dinner was served.
'Come along, Molly,' said Maulevrier; 'come and tell me about the terriers, while I eat my dinner.' Mary hesitated, glanced doubtfully at her grandmother, who made no sign, and then slipped out of the room, hanging fondly on her brother's arm, and almost forgetting that there was any such person as Mr.Hammond in existence.
When these three were gone Lady Lesbia expressed herself strongly upon Maulevrier's folly in bringing such a person as Mr.Hammond to Fellside.
'What are we to do with him, grandmother ?' she said, pettishly.

'Is he to live with us, and be one of us, a person of whose belongings we know positively nothing, who owns that his people are common ?' 'My dear, he is your brother's friend, and we have the right to suppose he is a gentleman.' 'Not on that account,' said Lesbia, more sharply than her wont.