to Pemberley

"I didn't know who I was-- I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd ever seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds."
/Jack Kerouac