"Home, home indeed? You are home—this is your home. Ashleydown is yours now."
"Yes," nodded Barnabas, "I suppose it is, but I shall never live here,
I leave today. I am going home, but before I—"
"Home? What home—which home?"
"But before I do, I would thank you if I could, but how may I thank you for all your motherly care of me? Indeed, dear Duchess, I cannot, and yet—if words can—"
"Pho!" exclaimed the Duchess, knitting her brows at him, but with eyes still ineffably soft and tender, "what do you mean by 'home,' pray?"
"I am going back to my father and Natty Bell."
"And to—that inn?"
"Yes, Duchess. You see, there is not, there never was, there never shall be quite such another inn as the old 'Hound.'"
"And you—actually mean to—live there?"
"Yes, for a time, but—"