“Exactly.”
“I see. You reckon you’ll spend a few year on fractions?”
“I may spend my whole life on them.”
“That’s the right spirit, Marvin. Now, whenever you get rid of a fraction, I wish you’d drop me a note. Will you?”
“I will.”
“Good for you. And now I think I’ll go to bed, if your father will keep me company on the island.”
A few minutes later Marvin stopped by the Tarpeian on his way to his canoe.
“Darling, I’m off. I don’t blame you for being unwilling to leave your father. May I write to you every day for the next three years?”
“I’d rather you wouldn’t. Please don’t write except to say that you have found somebody else.”
“Then it will be three years of solid silence. But I’ll be back before your birthday in August, 1922.”