Never did a girl prepare for a gay visit with a sadder heart. I had not
an idea what I was going to. Mr Gray was rich, and I felt certain that
his villa was what my father would term "pretentious." By this would be
meant that he had large rooms instead of small, good furniture instead
of shabby, good meals instead of bad, and in the place of loneliness and
gloom, brightness and company.
This I was sure of, for Mr Gray's eyes sparkled as if he lived well and
cheerily, and the pleasant sunshine of hospitality shone all over his
expressive features.