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A Poor Wise Man

His last thought, of course, was of Lily Cardew. He had neglected to cover Jinx,
and at last the dog leaped on the bed and snuggled close to him. He threw an
end of the blanket over him and lay there, staring into the darkness. He was
frightfully lonely. At last he fell asleep, and the March wind, coming in through the
open window, overturned a paper leaning against his collar box, on which he had
carefully written:
Have suit pressed.
Buy new tie.
Shirts from laundry.
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