He crossed to the window and exclaimed, "Lord, how good it is to think of lanes, muddy lanes, with brambles and nettles, you know, and real grass fields, and farmyards with pigs and cows, and men walking beside carts with pitchforks--there's nothing to compare with that here--look at the stony red earth, and the bright blue sea, and the glaring white houses--how tired one gets of it! And the air, without a stain or a wrinkle. I'd give anything for a sea mist."