"No; nor do I mean to, for the present. It contains bad news."

"What do you call bad news?"

"News that I am expected in Smyrna in three weeks. News that Mr. Vernor
disapproves of my roving about the world. News that his daughter is
standing expectant at the altar."

"Is not this pure conjecture?"

"Conjecture, possibly, but safe conjecture. As soon as I looked at the
letter something smote me at the heart. Look at the device on the seal,
and I am sure you will find it's _Tarry not_!" And he flung the letter
on the grass.

"Upon my word, you had better open it," I said.

"If I were to open it and read my summons, do you know what I should do?
I should march home and ask the Oberkellner how one gets to Smyrna, pack
my trunk, take my ticket, and not stop till I arrived. I know I should;
it would be the fascination of habit. The only way, therefore, to wander
to my rope's end is to leave the letter unread."

"In your place," I said, "curiosity would make me open it."

He shook his head. "I have no curiosity! For a long time now the idea
of my marriage has ceased to be a novelty, and I have contemplated it
mentally in every possible light. I fear nothing from that side, but I
do fear something from conscience. I want my hands tied. Will you do me
a favour? Pick up the letter, put it into your pocket, and keep it till