There was a sense of luxury overflowing in the house.

For his mother there was an umbrella with gold on the pale handle.

She kept it to her dying day, and would have lost anything rather than that.
Everybody had something gorgeous, and besides, there were pounds of unknown sweets: Turkish delight, crystallised pineapple, and such-like things which, the children thought, only the splendour of London could provide.

And Paul boasted of these sweets among his friends.
"Real pineapple, cut off in slices, and then turned into crystal--fair grand!" Everybody was mad with happiness in the family.

Home was home, and they loved it with a passion of love, whatever the suffering had been.