’tis seven minutes to three and I have to catch the 3.5 bus to Town, to sort out and arrange this football club (Book-cases ?) and so I must needs be brief. This evening we work on the Dairy-Farmer, and let it cause you no pains, you need have no worry about anyone else. You could even take a sort of a warm satisfaction from thinking that even though absent,   and all that, you have the whip-hand, (although I dislike the idea of the whip hand, that’s my motif, surely)

                    Some Whittington, but not much, what would you if I have to earn my keep at the same time. Tonight I’ll slog away after E.W.E. goes, I promise you, and I shall do it tomorrow night, too, if I can. But I expect we’ll have to Dairy-Farm (literarily) (not agriculturally). But if we do not meet until Saturday, fret not, the time will come, have no doubt. For now, let us take circumstances as they are.

                 May I lunch with you on Saturday ? Meet you in the library when you come from the office ?  I’ll be a-sitting there in the reference part, with books around me. And glad will I be to see you come in. Then we’ll go up to your place and then I’ll return there, like a homing pigeon, in the evening, after the show.

                    You see, tomorrow I shall either have to Dairy-farm, or if I don’t do that I’ll have to sweat away at our Richard. He must be done and only by doing it, as it were, shall I do it.

                        Get me ? So my love, and greetings to your mama and to the Babes in the Wood.