“I might have to ask a favour at his hands about a grammar.
Terence was well: the Doctor was well, went to Leyden daily to the Library. We expected to reach Velperweg toward midday. Don’t be out.”
I posted the yellow missive with my own hands, and reckoned out by the ‘bus-lichting’ plate, that it would be collected that night.
WELL EARNED REPOSE.
“Tour or no tour, to-morrow,” I said to myself, heaving a sigh of relief, after my race to the pillar-box; “We’re on the brink of a romance, if the protagonists only knew it. A little bad Dutch now seems all that is required. And we can rely on Boyton.”
Queer, when you think of it, that you sometimes hold people’s destinies in the hollow of your hand!
However, I didn’t philosophise much, but got to sleep as soon as ever I could,—content as from a good day’s work.