M. F. A. L.—Isn't Feda tired now?
No.
M. F. A. L.—I think Raymond must be.
Well, power is going.
M. F. A. L.—Anyhow, I must go. Some one perhaps of your brothers will come soon.
I want no heralds or flourish of trumpets, let them come and see if I can get through to them.
M. F. A. L.—(I here said something about myself, I forget; I think it was about being proud.)
If I see any signs, I'll take you in hand at once; it shall be nipped in the bud!
Good night.
M. F. A. L.—Do you sleep?