He was frantic with exultation.
Arriving with the news at ten o'clock one night, he shouted and maddened about Warburton's room until finally turned out at two in the morning.

His circumstances being what they were, he could not hope for marriage yet awhile; he must work and wait.

Never mind; see what work he would produce! Yet it appeared to his friend that all through the next twelvemonth he merely wasted time, such work as he did finish being of very slight value.

He talked and talked, now of Rosamund, now of what he was _going_ to do, until Warburton, losing patience, would cut him short with "Oh, go to Bath!"-- an old cant phrase revived for its special appropriateness in this connection.

Franks went to Bath far oftener than he could afford, money for his journey being generally borrowed from his long-enduring friend.
Rosamund herself had nothing, and but the smallest expectations should her father die.