The more I thought of him, the more uneasy I felt about his future proceedings.

It ended in my writing, by the Sunday's post, to his father's valet, Mr.Jeffco (whom I had known in former years) to beg he would let me know what Mr.Franklin had settled to do, on arriving in London.
The Sunday evening was, if possible, duller even than the Saturday evening.

We ended the day of rest, as hundreds of thousands of people end it regularly, once a week, in these islands--that is to say, we all anticipated bedtime, and fell asleep in our chairs.
How the Monday affected the rest of the household I don't know.

The Monday gave ME a good shake up.

The first of Sergeant Cuff's prophecies of what was to happen--namely, that I should hear from the Yollands--came true on that day.
I had seen Penelope and my lady's maid off in the railway with the luggage for London, and was pottering about the grounds, when I heard my name called.