They lived in a style of more lavish expenditure than Mrs.
Greville at all approved of.

Her husband, however, only laughed good-humouredly whenever she ventured to remonstrate, and told her not to trouble herself or Mary about such things; they had enough, and he would take care that sufficiency should not fail.

A dim foreboding crossed Mrs.Greville's mind at these words; but her husband's manner, though careless, preventing all further expostulation, she was compelled to suppress, if she could not conquer, her anxiety.

At length, the storm that Mary had long felt was brooding in this unnatural calm, burst over her, and opened Mrs.Greville's eyes at once.
Among their most constant but least welcome visitors was a Monsieur Dupont, a man of polished manners certainly, the superficial polish of the Frenchman, but of no other attraction, and even in that there was something about him to Mary particularly repulsive.

He had seen some threescore years; his countenance, in general inexpressive, at times betrayed that strong and evil passions were working at his heart.