Sometimes I saw her: she would come out of her room with a basin, or a plate, or a tray in her hand, go down to the kitchen and shortly return, generally (oh, romantic reader, forgive me for telling the plain truth!) bearing a pot of porter.
Qualche volta la vedevo uscir di camera e portare un piatto e un vassoio, scendere in cucina e tornar su con una bottiglia di porter.