Rosamond, accustomed from her childhood to an extravagant household, thought that good housekeeping consisted simply in ordering the best of everything⁠—nothing else “answered;” and Lydgate supposed that “if things were done at all, they must be done properly”⁠—he did not see how they were to live otherwise. If each head of household expenditure had been mentioned to him beforehand, he would have probably observed that “it could hardly come to much,” and if anyone had suggested a saving on a particular article⁠—for example, the substitution of cheap fish for dear⁠—it would have appeared to him simply a penny-wise, mean notion. Rosamond, even without such an occasion as Captain Lydgate’s visit, was fond of giving invitations, and Lydgate, though he often thought the guests tiresome, did not interfere. This sociability seemed a necessary part of professional prudence, and the entertainment must be suitable. It is true Lydgate was constantly visiting the homes of the poor and adjusting his prescriptions of diet to their small means; but, dear me! has it not by this time ceased to be remarkable⁠—is it not rather that we expect in men, that they should have numerous strands of experience lying side by side and never compare them with each other?