Mrs. Henry Wayland Chetwynd, Mrs. Dorriman: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3
“ Then they sped on their way along the banks of the Clyde, and an exclamation burst from Margaret's lips. Mrs. Dorriman's eyes were moist. The sea came in sight where the river widened; the evening light was falling over it all touching with a golden gleam the ripple of the water. Some yachts were lying at anchor. Away to the South rose faint blue hills as on the West. Even Grace, too much self-absorbed as a rule to be passionately alive to natural beauty, felt it all, as she had never in all her life felt any scenery before. ”
