"It's all paid for, Mrs Greenow, every bottle of it," he said, turning round to my aunt, with a pathetic earnestness, for which I had hardly given him credit.

"Everything in this house is my own; it's all paid for.

I don't call anything a man's own till it's paid for.
Now that jacket that Bellfield swells about with on the sands at Yarmouth,--that's not his own,--and it's not like to be either." And then he winked his eye as though bidding my aunt to think of that before she encouraged such a lover as Bellfield.

He took us into every bedroom, and disclosed to us all the glories of his upper chambers.
It would have done you good to see him lifting the counterpanes, and bidding my aunt feel the texture of the blankets! And then to see her turn round to me and say:--"Kate, it's simply the best-furnished house I ever went over in my life!"-- "It does seem very comfortable," said I."Comfortable!" said he.

"Yes, I don't think there's anybody can say that Oileymead isn't comfortable." I did so think of you and Nethercoats.