"It's lying on the secretary," said George, who was at the moment engaged in tying up his shoes.
Felician went into the next room, took the telegram in his hand and read it. "It is much more urgent," he observed, "than I thought."
"It seems to me, Felician, that it still strikes you as strange that I am shortly going to have a real profession."
Felician stood at his brother's side again and stroked his hair. "It is perhaps rather providential that the telegram should have come yesterday."
"Providential! How so?"
"I mean that after such a sad business the prospect of practical occupation ought to do you twice as much good.... But I am afraid I must leave you now. I've still got quite a lot to do. Farewell visits among other things."
"When are you going then, Felician?"
"A week to-day. I say, George, I suppose you are probably coming back from the country to-day?"
"Certainly, if everything is all right out there."
"Perhaps we might see each other again in the evening."