'It's too expensive, though it is such a poky hole.

We can find a lodging, I suppose, and feed ourselves.

Unless of course we went back to Westmorland.

Why can't you?
They can always telegraph.' Nelly flushed.

Her hand lying on the back of Bridget's chair shook.
'And if George sent for me,' she said, in the same low, strained voice, 'it would take eight hours longer to get to him than it would from here.' Bridget said nothing.