“Before you came down I was looking over these books. There are lots of them. Mrs. Perley says they’ve been accumulating for years. Mining men have left them and some of them have the names of people I know written in them. I thought perhaps you might like to read some of them.”
Dominick sent a lazily disparaging glance over the books. He was not much of a reader at the best of times.
“What are they,” he said, “novels?”
“Mostly.” She sat down by the table and took up the volume nearest to her. “Here’s Tale of Two Cities. That’s a fine one.”
“I’ve read it. Yes, it’s splendid. It’s all about the French Revolution. The hero’s like a real person and heroes in books hardly ever are, only I’d have liked him better if he’d stopped drinking and married his girl.”
“I thought perhaps you might like me to read to you,” she said, turning a tentative glance on him. “That’s how I was going to amuse and instruct you.”
“I’m sure it would be much more amusing and probably just as instructive if you talked to me.”
“You’ve got to stay down here two hours. How could I talk and be amusing and instructive for two hours? You’d probably have a relapse and I’m quite sure the doctor’d find me in a dead faint on the hearth when he came in.”
“All right. Let’s try the books. Don’t let’s risk relapses and dead faints.”
“Very well, then, that’s understood. We’ll go through the library now. I’ll read the titles and you say if you like any of them.”