He never can have read, no, he never can have been in a room with a volume of the divine Chesterfield.
Chesterfield pronounced it to be from the pen of Bolingbroke.
I turned about, and there stood my companion at Chesterfield.
She moves to the Chesterfield and leans against it, biting her nails.
She dropped her arms and fell back upon the chesterfield, insensible.