But, after the date mentioned, it occurred to him that his letters reached him with an abominable irregularity, and that it would do his work no harm, but, on the contrary, much good, if he took a daily constitutional in the direction of the post-office, which gave a touch of official dignity to the wasp-filled precincts of a grocer's shop in the village, some two miles off.
For some considerable number of days, however, his walks only furnished him with food for reflection on the common disproportion of means to ends in this life.

His sister's persistence in sticking to the soil of France began to seem to him extraordinary! However, at last, the monotony of the Etretat postmarks was broken by a postcard from Lyons.

'We are here for the night on some business of Paul's; to-morrow we hope to be at Turin, and two or three days later at Venice.

By the way, where will the Brethertons be?
I must trust to my native wits, I suppose, when I get there.

She is not the sort of light to be hidden under a bushel.' This postcard disturbed Kendal not a little, and he felt irritably that somebody had mismanaged matters.