He was writing at a table, with a great confusion of clothes, tin cases, books, boots, brushes, and portmanteaus strewn all about the floor. He was only half dressed--in plain clothes, I observed, not in uniform--and his hair was unbrushed, and he looked as wild as his room. All this I saw after he had heartily welcomed me and I was seated near him, for he started upon hearing my voice and caught me in his arms in a moment. Dear Richard! He was ever the same to me. Down to--ah, poor poor fellow!--to the end, he never received me but with something of his old merry boyish manner.
"Good heaven, my dear little woman," said he, "how do you come here? Who could have thought of seeing you! Nothing the matter? Ada is well?"

He was writing at a table, with a great confusion of clothes, books, boots and portmanteaus strewn all about the floor. He was only half dressed - in plain clothes, not in uniform - and his hair was unbrushed. He looked as wild as his room. He heartily welcomed me and caught me in his arms in a moment. Dear Richard! He was ever the same to me. Down to the end, he always received me with something of his old merry boyish manner.
"Good heavens, my dear little woman," said he, "how do you come here? Nothing the matter? Ada is well?"
