The descent of the High Street of Clovelly, at night, turned out to be a matter of more difficulty than we had anticipated.
Betsy: In Clovelly there are naught but cabins pitched upon a hill, and ladders to a loft.
"Your charming daughter and I have been talking about Clovelly," he continued.
And so Jack went home to his parish that very evening, weary as he was, in spite of all entreaties to pass the night at Clovelly.
Of course, I want to go back to Clovelly, but not with any of the Mrs. Nortons of the world.
