But now he was looking at a mere two sentences, a scrawled message that had stumped him for the past eight hours. What could it mean, he thought.
Dave, I had to leave. I just couldn’t take it anymore.
Then he decided a second version was worth posting:-
Dave was proud of his library and of having read nearly all of the several hundred literary works it contained; proud, too, of his ability to expound at length on the likes of Proust, Twain, Woolf, Shakespeare. He tried to sound casual when mentioning that he read about forty novels a year.
But a scrawled message had stumped him for the past eight hours. What could it mean, he thought.
Dave, I’m leaving. I just couldn’t take it anymore.
He took a copy of The Taming Of The Shrew from his bookshelves. Perhaps the answer is in here, he muttered.