Dodsworth by Sinclair Lewis

Sam was used enough to New York hotels, and he had spent occasional fortnights at summer inns of Northern Michigan, Maine, the Berkshires. But he had never known the existence of the prosperous refugees from life who cling for years to hotels and pensions, who are mothered by chambermaids, fathered by concierges, befriended only by room-waiters--if they find any waiters kind enough and idle enough to be patient with their longing to gossip.

And he did not like it.