A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames.
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