And, with something of a pang, resolutely stifled, I realised for a moment the true blessedness of the single state I was so soon to leave behind.

At all events, a little golden fragment of bachelorhood remained.

There was yet a fertile strip of time wherein to sow my last handful of the wild oats of youth.
So festina lente, my destined Sylvia, festina lente!.