'What do you mean?'

'Are men likely to be healthy when they are worse housed than a
pig?'

'No.'

'And worse fed than a hound?'

'Good heavens! No!'

'Or packed together to sleep, like pilchards in a barrel?'

'But, my good fellow, do you mean that the labourers here are in
that state?'

'It isn't far to walk, sir. Perhaps some day, when the May-fly is
gone off, and the fish won't rise awhile, you could walk down and
see. I beg your pardon, sir, though, for thinking of such a thing.
They are not places fit for gentlemen, that's certain.' There was a
staid irony in his tone, which Lancelot felt.

'But the clergyman goes?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And Miss Honoria goes?'

'Yes, God Almighty bless her!'