Sir Leicester is fidgety down at Chesney Wold, with no better company than the gout; he complains to Mrs.Rouncewell that the rain makes such a monotonous pattering on the terrace that he can't read the paper even by the fireside in his own snug dressing-room.
"Sir Leicester would have done better to try the other side of the house, my dear," says Mrs.Rouncewell to Rosa.

"His dressing-room is on my Lady's side.

And in all these years I never heard the step upon the Ghost's Walk more distinct than it is to-night!".