What was he to do?
Where was he to go?
How was he to get away, even for a time, from Alaric Tudor?
And then, was he right in wishing to get away from him?
Had he not told himself, over and over again, that it behoved him as a man and a friend and a Christian to conquer the bitter feeling of envy which preyed on his spirits?
Had he not himself counselled Alaric to stand this examination?
and had he not promised that his doing so should make no difference in their friendship?
Had he not pledged himself to rejoice in the success of his friend?
and now was he to break his word both to that friend and to himself?
Schooling himself, or trying to school himself in this way, he made no attempt at escaping from his unhappiness.

They passed the Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings together.

It was now nearly the end of September, and London was empty; that is, empty as regards those friends and acquaintances with whom Norman might have found some resource.

On the Saturday they left their office early; for all office routine had, during this week, been broken through by the immense importance of the ceremony which was going on; and then it became necessary to write to Mrs.Woodward.
'Will you write to Hampton or shall I ?' said Alaric, as they walked arm-in-arm under the windows of Whitehall.
'Oh! you, of course,' said Norman; 'you have much to tell them; I have nothing.' 'Just as you please,' said the other.

'That is, of course, I will if you like it.