H G Wells

Love and Mr. Lewisham H G Wells

Imperceptibly the speed of his writing diminished. "Urit me Glycerae nitor" lay ahead and troubled him. "Urit me," he murmured, and his eyes travelled from his book out of window to the vicar's roof opposite and its ivied chimneys. His brows were knit at first and then relaxed. "Urit me!" He had put his pen into his mouth and glanced about for his dictionary. Urare? Suddenly his expression changed. Movement dictionary-ward ceased. He was listening to a light tapping sound-it was a footfall-outside. He stood up abruptly, and, stretching his neck, peered through his unnecessary glasses and the diamond panes down into the street.