"My terms and conditions …" Louisa repeated. Taking the cue from his manner before, she started to drum her fingers onto the table. "Could you afford me water to drink at most? The sun is heavy outside."
"But you came in a coach," Rochester said, reclining into his seat.
"I did come in a coach," Louisa admitted with a little nod. "One that had no roof — hence, my thirst."
"I see." Rochester had barely said that when a man, who could possibly be termed a Waiter, walked on over to his table. That was something he had come to accept about Mr. Ruthford's Inn. A lot had changed about the place over the months and there being such a person as a Waiter, was a welcomed improvement to Rochester. That too, and how the bedsheets no longer stank of days-old-semen and fornication. The sheets were changed about three times a day. The incident that happened with Louisa and her mother when he last visited was what opened up a gold mine for the round-bellied owner.
