Mrs. Henry Wayland Chetwynd

Summary

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.
Source: Gutenberg

Mrs. Henry Wayland Chetwynd Mrs. Dorriman: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3

And Margaret, we thought it might be the prince," and Grace folded her hands, laid her chin upon them, and stared at herself in the glass.
"The prince will come, Grace; you will see."
"No, Margaret! I do not believe in him. I believe in nothing now. All my hopes are dead. What have they to live on? We shall go on living here for ever till we are quite old and grey, and we shall never see any one younger than Mr. Sandford and his friends, and never see the world, or know any other life," and she lowered her head in a fit of despair.
Source: Gutenberg

Mrs. Henry Wayland Chetwynd Mrs. Dorriman: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3

What a delightful thing it must be to live encased in an armour of this kind; to be impervious to those friendly and unfriendly hits the world at large thinks good for poor humanity.
Grace had not much acquaintance with the world, but the few people she knew never could touch her, and Mr. Paul Lyons was sometimes astonished and sometimes amused to see how she sailed through her life, delighting in the idea that every one round shared her own supreme belief in her superiority.
How hard he tried to get Margaret to believe in him a little—forced to confess, time after time, that he had failed.
Source: Gutenberg

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