Sometimes I wish I were clear of the place.

And now I'm going to bed.

I am beginning to feel as though I had done my day's work in the world.

I'm getting feeble John, this is the fact of it." After that he always called him John.
Of Jess they heard but little.

She wrote every week, it is true, and gave an accurate account of all that was going on at Pretoria and of her daily doings, but she was one of those people whose letters tell one absolutely nothing of themselves and of what is passing in their minds.
They ought to have been headed "Our Pretoria Letter," as Bessie said disgustedly after reading through three sheets in Jess's curious, upright handwriting.