_Penhaligon Knickerbocker Hotel Reno Nevada USA you will find Oxford in May becoming expect you this day fortnight Peroxic sails on fourth kisses Gav alone please._ “Is that order all right?” she asked doubtfully. “Perfectly,” he answered. “It is the first telegram with a postscript.” She looked at him with questioning surprise. “Emphasis,” he explained, and came out into St. Aldate’s and turned his footsteps towards Wallace. A crisis in the tide of his life always brought Gaveston to Mongo’s room. He usually came on there from the post office. How soothing still he found that room with its unchanging and immutable sameness, how orderly in its permanent untidiness! As he knocked and entered there were those same young voices laughing (how strange to think that they were fully a year his junior!), and there, on the same accustomed hob, crouched the same Mongo. Nowadays there were a few photographs the more, and the vice-cancellarian mace now occupied the corner where formerly Mongo’s spokeless umbrella had immemorially leaned, but otherwise all was as before. But somehow, with a shiver, Gaveston suddenly felt himself grown old. “Something wrong, Gav?” asked Mongo, noticing his tremor. But Gaveston only smiled enigmatically, and Mongo, with quick perceptiveness, hinted successfully to his other visitors that there was another common-room for junior members of the college somewhere about. “Not overworking, Gav?” “Well, I don’t know, Mongo. You see----” He stopped as if to collect his thoughts, and at once Mongo saw that something was seriously wrong. “I--I think I see, Gav.” The old man laid a hand on his shoulder as he spoke. “You’ve rushed things a little, haven’t you? Oxford doesn’t stand that, you know.” “Youth can stand a lot, Mongo.” “But you’ve drunk the draught too quickly, Gav.” “That’s what it is. And now … well, it simply can’t go on.… No lees for me!” His voice quavered a little. “You mean you’re going down?” “This term, Mongo,” he nodded. “And for good?” “For good.” His voice was firm again. He blew his nose. Mongo blew his. Both gulped. “It’s beastly saying good-bye.…” “Beastly,” nodded the Dean. “But still, term’s not over yet. I’ve time for new plans, and I’ll certainly give a party for Commem. You’ll come, Mongo?” “Why, of course, Gav.” The Dean was recovering his youthful spirits again. And Gav too felt happier when he came across the quadrangle once more. After all, there was a world outside Wallace, and it needed conquering.… And the first step? He was passing Daunchey the bookseller’s window as he wondered. A card caught his eye. GENTLEMEN’S LIBRARIES PURCHASED. It would have to be done. His mind was made up, and he stepped into the shop. He was welcomed. Old Mr. Daunchey himself hurried forward from his counting-house, rubbing his hands. “I want you to buy my books, Daunchey.” “Yes, sir. I’ll send a man round, sir.” “Right away, please.”