He knew that he would see her as soon as a letter could reach her, but that made no difference.

He felt impelled to write, and he wrote--a letter so tender and loving and rejoicing that were it to appear in these pages no lover would ever dare write to his lady again, lest she chide him for being less eloquent than Claudius, Phil.D.

of Heidelberg.

And he wrote on and on for many days, spending most of his time in that way.
Meanwhile, the Duke and Margaret cantered in the Park, and talked of all kinds of things; or rather, the Duke talked, and Margaret thought of Claudius.

Before they returned, however, she had managed to let the Duke know that the Doctor was on his way back; whereat the Englishman rejoiced loudly.