She would thus descend to the kitchen once a day, eat her dinner, smoke a moderate pipe on the hearth, and go back, carrying her pot of porter with her, for her private solace, in her own gloomy, upper haunt.
Ella scendeva in cucina una volta al giorno per desinare, fumava un momento accanto al focolare e tornava in camera sua, triste, cupa, portando seco un boccale di porter.