It would have been positively comic but for the wildness of his eyes and the hectic colour that had suddenly flooded his cheeks. There was I, wondering how on earth to persuade him to take a holiday; and then, before I had even time to begin, he was actually suggesting one himself.... "Look here," I exclaimed rather bewilderedly. And then, very uneloquently, I put it to him that a few days in Buda wasn't my idea of a holiday for him, and that what he needed was a far longer one--months, in fact. Why couldn't he put work on one side for a while and accompany me back to England? I knew from the way he shook his head that it wasn't the slightest use attempting to persuade him. There was nothing in England for him, he said. He didn't care if he never saw England again. Besides, he couldn't put his work on one side for months at a time--the idea was unthinkable. He could spare a week at most--as a concession to me and in celebration of the success he had achieved--and then he must go back again to the laboratories. Because he had achieved _something_ wasn't any reason for resting on his oars; the _something_ was only a fraction of what was to be achieved in due course.... He exclaimed, with a curious ecstasy in his voice: "I'm wonderfully happy--just wonderfully.... There comes a time when you turn a sort of corner in life, and see all the road behind you that you have traveled. And to look round and see _that_, if you've slacked, is the most miserable sight on earth--but if you _haven't_ slacked--if you've really done anything--it's _great_--it makes you feel"--he laughed and ended up: "that you deserve a short holiday, at any rate." So (continuing) it must be Buda. The river-trip was very enjoyable, and he was sure we should both have a fine time. Mizzi would tell us of a good hotel in Buda....