Then he kissed
his wife, got into a cab, and told the driver to drive him to the
station.
The journey, which he made in the company of his Board, did him good;
it really was a good thing for him to get out of his groove;
domesticity lay behind him like a stuffy bedroom, and on the arrival
of the train at Linkoping he was in high spirits.
An excellent dinner had been ordered at the best hotel and the
remainder of the day was spent in eating it. They drank the health of
the Lord Lieutenant; no one thought of the prisoners on whose behalf
the journey had been undertaken.
Dinner over, he had to face a lonely evening in his solitary room. A
bed, two chairs, a table, a washing-stand and a wax candle, which
threw its dim light on bare walls. He couldn't suppress a feeling of
nervousness. He missed all his little comforts,--slippers,
dressing-gown, pipe rack and writing table; all the little details
which played an important part in his daily life. And the kiddies? And
his wife? What were they doing? Were they all right? He became
restless and depressed. When he wanted to wind up his watch, he found
that he had left his watch-key at home. It was hanging on the
watch-stand which his wife had given him before they were married.
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