Rosa, composed now, gave him a faithful account of the interview.  Mr. Grewgious often smoothed his head while it was in progress, and begged to be told a second time those parts which bore on Helena and Neville.  When Rosa had finished, he sat grave, silent, and meditative for a while.

‘Clearly narrated,’ was his only remark at last, ’and, I hope, clearly put away here,’ smoothing his head again.  ‘See, my dear,’ taking her to the open window, ’where they live!  The dark windows over yonder.’

‘I may go to Helena to-morrow?’ asked Rosa.

‘I should like to sleep on that question to-night,’ he answered doubtfully.  ’But let me take you to your own rest, for you must need it.’

With that Mr. Grewgious helped her to get her hat on again, and hung upon his arm the very little bag that was of no earthly use, and led her by the hand (with a certain stately awkwardness, as if he were going to walk a minuet) across Holborn, and into Furnival’s Inn.  At the hotel door, he confided her to the Unlimited head chambermaid, and said that while she went up to see her room, he would remain below, in case she should wish it exchanged for another, or should find that there was anything she wanted.

Rosa’s room was airy, clean, comfortable, almost gay.  The Unlimited had laid in everything omitted from the very little bag (that is to say, everything she could possibly need), and Rosa tripped down the great many stairs again, to thank her guardian for his thoughtful and affectionate care of her.

‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Mr. Grewgious, infinitely gratified; ’it is I who thank you for your charming confidence and for your charming company.  Your breakfast will be provided for you in a neat, compact, and graceful little sitting-room (appropriate to your figure), and I will come to you at ten o’clock in the morning.  I hope you don’t feel very strange indeed, in this strange place.’

‘O no, I feel so safe!’

‘Yes, you may be sure that the stairs are fire-proof,’ said Mr. Grewgious, ’and that any outbreak of the devouring element would be perceived and suppressed by the watchmen.’

‘I did not mean that,’ Rosa replied.  ’I mean, I feel so safe from him.’

‘There is a stout gate of iron bars to keep him out,’ said Mr. Grewgious, smiling; ’and Furnival’s is fire-proof, and specially watched and lighted, and I live over the way!’ In the stoutness of his knight-errantry, he seemed to think the last-named protection all sufficient.  In the same spirit he said to the gate-porter as he went out, ’If some one staying in the hotel should wish to send across the road to me in the night, a crown will be ready for the messenger.’  In the same spirit, he walked up and down outside the iron gate for the best part of an hour, with some solicitude; occasionally looking in between the bars, as if he had laid a dove in a high roost in a cage of lions, and had it on his mind that she might tumble out.