Shortly after twelve he has finished it, and, throwing down his pen, he paces about the room with enviable feelings.
He had not as yet mentioned to Waymark the work he was engaged upon, though he had confessed that he wrote verses at times.

He wished to complete it, and then read it to his friend.

It was now only the middle of the week, and though he had decided previously to wait till his visit to Walcot Square next Sunday before saying a word about "Stilicho," he could not refrain now from hastily penning a note to Waymark, and going out to post it at once.
When the day came, the weather would not allow the usual walk with Harriet, and Julian could not help feeling glad that it was so.

He was too pre-occupied to talk in the usual way with the girl, and he knew how vain it would be to try and make her understand his state of mind.
Still, he went to see her as usual, and sat for an hour in Mrs.Ogle's parlour.

At times, throughout the week, he had thought of the curious resemblance between Harriet and the girl he had noticed on leaving Waymark's house last Sunday, and now he asked her, in a half-jesting way, whether it had really been she.
"How could it be ?" said Harriet carelessly.