If I remember right, Pen tre Voelas is twenty miles across the bleakest mountain road I ever saw." "Indeed, sir, and I did not know you; Mr Bellingham, I believe.
Indeed, sir, Pen tre Voelas is not above eighteen miles--we only charge for eighteen; it may not be much above seventeen; and we're quite full, indeed, more's the pity." "Well, but Jenny, to oblige me, an old friend, you can find lodgings out for some of your people--the house across, for instance." "Indeed, sir, and it's at liberty; perhaps you would not mind lodging there yourself; I could get you the best rooms, and send over a trifle or so of furniture, if they wern't as you'd wish them to be." "No, Jenny! here I stay.

You'll not induce me to venture over into those rooms, whose dirt I know of old.

Can't you persuade some one who is not an old friend to move across?
Say, if you like, that I had written beforehand to bespeak the rooms.

Oh! I know you can manage it--I know your good-natured ways." "Indeed, sir--well! I'll see, if you and the lady will just step into the back parlour, sir--there's no one there just now; the lady is keeping her bed to-day for a cold, and the gentleman is having a rubber at whist in number three.

I'll see what I can do." "Thank you, thank you.