Its existence impressed one as casual; it was a mere bit of Dunfield got away from the main mass, and having brought its dirt with it.

The stretch of road between it and the bridge by which the river was crossed into Dunfield had in its long, hard ugliness something dispiriting.

Though hedges bordered it here and there, they were stunted and grimed; though fields were seen on this side and on that, the grass had absorbed too much mill-smoke to exhibit wholesome verdure; it was fed upon by sheep and cows, seemingly turned in to be out of the way till needed for slaughter, and by the sorriest of superannuated horses.

The land was blighted by the curse of what we name--using a word as ugly as the thing it represents--industrialism.
As the cab brought her along this road from Dunfield station, Emily thought of the downs, the woodlands, the fair pastures of Surrey.

There was sorrow at her heart, even a vague tormenting fear.