"Would all the days go like this ?" he asked himself.
He had got through the first week by his room and office-seeking and furnishing.

But now?
He could not read law for more than four hours a day, and get anything from it.

What was to be done with the rest of the time?
What could he do to keep himself from thinking of--from thinking?
He looked out of his one window, over the dreary stretch of roofs and the drearier light shafts spoken of flatteringly as yards.

He compressed his lips, and resorted once more to his book.

But he found his mind wandering, and realized that he had done all he was equal to on a hot July morning.