It was always something to Wogan to fall asleep with that sound in his ears.

He dismounted accordingly, and having ordered his supper asked for a room.
"You will sleep here ?" exclaimed his host.
"I will at all events lie in bed," returned Wogan.
The innkeeper took a lamp and led the way up a narrow winding stair.
"Have a care, sir," said he; "the stairs are steep." "I prefer them steep." "I am afraid that I keep the light from you, but there is no room for two to walk abreast." "It is an advantage.

I do not like to be jostled on the stairs." The landlord threw open a door at the top of the stairs.
"The room is a garret," he said in apology.
"So long as it has no cupboards it will serve my turn." "Ah! you do not like cupboards." "They fill a poor man with envy of those who have clothes to hang in them." Wogan ascertained that there were no cupboards.

There was a key, too, in the lock, and a chest of drawers which could be moved very suitably in front of the door.
"It is a good garret," said Wogan, laying down his bag upon a chair.
"The window is small," continued the landlord.
"One will be less likely to fall out," said Wogan.

One would also, he thought, be less likely to climb in.