"What a blotch! " said the young Mary, as they topped the crest of the hill and looked down into the valley. Stanton-in-Teesdale lay below them, black with its slate roofs and its sooty chimneys and its smoke. The moors rose up and rolled away beyond it, bare as far as the eye could reach. The sun shone, the clouds trailed enormous shadows. "Our poor view! It oughtn't to be allowed. It really oughtn't."
"Every prospect pleases and only man is vile," quoted her brother George.
Sign in to unlock this title
Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit.
