It's a toss up.

That settles it.

Well, but now for Aunt Marcia--" She drew a letter from the pages of her French book, and opened it.
* * * * * "My dear Constance"-- so it ran--"I should like to make your acquaintance, and I hear that you are at Oxford with your uncle.

I would come and see you but that I never leave home.

Oxford, too, depresses me dreadfully.