A refinement of torture with which the window downstairs simply can't compete.

How they must have hated the smell of the sea, poor dears! But I daresay they didn't open their windows very often.

It wasn't the fashion in those days." She drew Olga on to the corridor above, and so to her own room, a cheerful apartment that faced the Priory grounds.
"If I am really coming to stay with you, I suppose I must pack some clothes.

Does the young man dress for dinner, by the way ?" "Oh, yes.

It's very ridiculous.