"Now do, that 's a dear old Dick! You 'll just see how lovely it'll be!" Shelton smiled; he had not the heart to chase away this vision.

"And give her my warmest love, and tell her I 'm longing for the wedding.

Come, now, my dear boy, promise me that's what you 'll do." And Shelton said: "I'll think about it." Mrs.Shelton had taken up her stand with one foot on the fender, in spite of her sciatica.
"Cheer up!" she cried; her eyes beamed as if intoxicated by her sympathy.
Wonderful woman! The uncomplicated optimism that carried her through good and ill had not descended to her son.
From pole to pole he had been thrown that day, from the French barber, whose intellect accepted nothing without carping, and whose little fingers worked all day, to save himself from dying out, to his own mother, whose intellect accepted anything presented with sufficient glow, but who, until she died, would never stir a finger.

When Shelton reached his rooms, he wrote to Antonia: I can't wait about in London any longer; I am going down to Bideford to start a walking tour.

I shall work my way to Oxford, and stay there till I may come to Holm Oaks.