for from that moment William had me at his mercy.
It was nearly half-past nine, when, having brought his last cauliflower to my notice, William gave me permission to seek my breakfast. He would call for me at the Inn at ten. This was the moment for speaking up. I should have said: "William, do not call for me at ten; do not follow me to the river. I shall do capitally alone. Do not put yourself out on my account. Stay here, William, and cultivate your garden." But I had not the courage to say this. It were easier to decline an invitation to Windsor. There is no doubt that he felt that in accompanying me he would be doing me not so much a service as an honour, and to hint that I would rather be without him was beyond me. "But he will quickly tire," I reflected, "of seeing me blundering about and putting down rising fish. He will stay an hour at the most. I shall soon be alone." And I agreed to wait for him at the Inn till ten. As I ate my eggs and toast I indulged in the hope that after all William might find wire-worms among his carnations, and as I put up my rod and greased my line in the porch, that hope grew stronger with each minute which brought the hand of the clock nearer to the hour, for still no glimpse of William was visible upon the road.
