There is a bell through, ma'am, but you'll have to go into the next room to ring it, for you know, ma'am, that it's the next room that ought to have been your room by rights." "I wish now that I'd taken it and put you in here," said Miss Farrow ruefully.
"They're going to keep up a good fire there.

So when you go in you won't get a chill." "That does seem luxurious," said Miss Farrow, smiling.

She loved luxury, and it was pleasant to think that there should be a fire kept up in an empty room just so that she shouldn't feel a chill when she went in for a moment to ring for her maid! "By the way, I hope there's a fireplace in your room, Pegler"-- the words were uttered solicitously.
"No, there isn't, ma'am.

But I don't mind that.

I don't much care about a fire." "There's no accounting for taste!" Miss Farrow took up her book again, and Pegler, as was her way, slid noiselessly from the room--not through the door leading into the haunted chamber, but out on to the beautiful panelled landing, now gay with bowls of hothouse flowers which had come down from London that morning by passenger train, and been brought by car all the way from Newmarket..