"Take me at least out of this terrible Italy," he cried, "where everything mocks and reproaches and torments and eludes me! Take me out of this land of impossible beauty and put me in the midst of ugliness.

Set me down where nature is coarse and flat, and men and manners are vulgar.

There must be something awfully ugly in Germany.

Pack me off there!" Rowland answered that if he wished to leave Italy the thing might be arranged; he would think it over and submit a proposal on the morrow.
He suggested to Mrs.Hudson, in consequence, that she should spend the autumn in Switzerland, where she would find a fine tonic climate, plenty of fresh milk, and several pensions at three francs and a half a day.
Switzerland, of course, was not ugly, but one could not have everything.
Mrs.Hudson neither thanked him nor assented; but she wept and packed her trunks.

Rowland had a theory, after the scene which led to these preparations, that Mary Garland was weary of waiting for Roderick to come to his senses, that the faith which had bravely borne his manhood company hitherto, on the tortuous march he was leading it, had begun to believe it had gone far enough.