Train shook his head and drew in his chair. "By no means. I have sat up till two before now. But on this night Mrs. Jersey wants the house to be considered respectable, and therefore asked me to retire early. Perhaps it's on account of you, old man." Here he smiled in an amused manner. "She hopes to get you as a boarder."
"I wouldn't come here for the world," retorted Brendon, with quite unnecessary violence.
"Why not? Have some tongue!"
"Thanks," responded George, passing his plate. "Because I don't like the house, and I don't care for Mrs. Jersey."
"Why did you advise me to come here, then?" asked Train, pouring out a glass of claret.
"Well, you wanted something in the style of Dickens, and this was the only place I knew."
"How did you know about it?"
George deliberated for a moment, and then fastened his eyes on his plate. "I lived here once," he said in a low voice.
"Dear me," gasped Train, "what an extraordinary thing."
"Why so? One must live somewhere."