We three had a dreary little interview in a parlor of bare walls; and then I was permitted to go upstairs, and unpack my portmanteau in my own room.
"Supper will be at nine o'clock, sir," said Miss Meadowcroft.
She pronounced those words as if "supper" was a form of domestic offense, habitually committed by the men, and endured by the women.

I followed the groom up to my room, not over-well pleased with my first experience of the farm.
No Naomi and no romance, thus far! My room was clean--oppressively clean.

I quite longed to see a little dust somewhere.

My library was limited to the Bible and the Prayer-Book.

My view from the window showed me a dead flat in a partial state of cultivation, fading sadly from view in the waning light.