Doubtfully HAYWOOD goes. And MALISE stands scratching his head; then slipping the bill into one of the volumes to remind him, he replaces them at the top of the pile. The Boy again advances into the doorway.
MALISE. Yes, now for you.
He goes to the table and takes some sheets of MS. from an old portfolio. But the door is again timidly pushed open, and HAYWOOD reappears.
MALISE. Yes, Mr. Haywood?
HAYWOOD. About that little matter, sir. If—if it's any convenience to you—I've—thought of a place where I could——
MALISE. Read them? You'll enjoy them thoroughly.
HAYWOOD. No, sir, no! Where I can dispose of them.
MALISE. [Holding out the volumes] It might be as well. [HAYWOOD takes the books gingerly] I congratulate you, Mr. Haywood; it's a classic.
HAYWOOD. Oh, indeed—yes, sir. In the event of there being any——
MALISE. Anything over? Carry it to my credit. Your bill—[He hands over the blue paper] Send me the receipt. Good evening!