V + 

By half-past six Anthony was in his flat. At seven he bathed; at eight dined. From eight-thirty to nine he smoked⁠—and thought. From nine until midnight he wrote, continuing his work of the night before. Save for occasional reference to notes, he wrote for those three hours without a pause. From midnight until one he considered what he had written. Then, after a long and powerful drink, he unearthed from its lair his typewriter. + 

It was lucky, he reflected, that two years ago he had wearied at last of professional typists and taken a machine unto himself. + 

From one-thirty in the morning until five⁠—three whole hours and a half⁠—he typed. There were two reasons why the work took him so long: the first, that he had not used the machine for six months; the second, that in copying what he had written he was constantly polishing, correcting, altering, improving. + 

At five he discarded the typewriter, took pen and paper and wrote a letter. This, together with the typewritten document, he placed in a large envelope. He stamped the envelope; was about to leave the flat and post it; then changed his mind. It should be sent by special messenger as early as one could be found awake. + 

He did not go to bed, feeling that if he did, nothing could wake him for at least twelve hours. He had another drink, another bath, and, when he had roused his man, a breakfast. + 