Von Rettenmayer.
But one begomes sig of a blace afder a fordnight.
Enid.
If you only go for enjoyment; not if you go for rest—rest.
Von Rettenmayer.
Three weegs, then?
Enid.
A month. Smythe gives me the whole of August.
Von Rettenmayer.
Passing his hand across his forehead. A month!