In him the love of place was in danger of becoming a disease.

There was in it something, I fear, of the nature, if not of the avarice that grasps, yet of the avarice that clings.

He was generous as few in the matter of money, but then he had had so little--not half enough to learn to love it! Nor had he the slightest idea of any mode in which to make it.

Most of the methods he had come in contact with, except that of manual labour, in which work was done and money paid immediately for it, repelled him, as having elements of the unhandsome where not the dishonest: he was not yet able to distinguish between substance and mode in such matters.

The only way in which he ever dreamed of coming into possession of money--it was another of his favourite castles--was finding in the old house a room he had never seen or heard of before, and therein a hoard of riches incredible.