At last, when I had dallied with this privilege long enough, I despatched to him the missive of the American poet He had already gone out of town; he shrank from the rigor of the London “season” and it was his habit to migrate on the first of June. Moreover, I had heard that this year he was hard at work on a new book, into which some of his impressions of the East were to be wrought, so that he desired nothing so much as quiet days. This knowledge, however, did not prevent me--_cet âge est sans pitié_--from sending with my friend’s letter a note of my own, in which I asked Mr. Ambient’s leave to come down and see him for an hour or two, on a day to be designated by himself. My proposal was …
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