“Bosh!” said Charley. He backed towards the door. “I thought,” he said, glancing from me to Augusta, and then from Augusta to me again, “that dinner was on the table, and that you were sniffing the good smell.”
“Books! Books!” said Augusta.
Charley vanished.
“Take me to his library,” said Augusta. “Just let me walk round it once, will you?”
“Oh yes, if you like,” I replied.
I took her round. She stepped softly in veneration. She took up a volume; she seated herself on a chair; she opened it; she was lost.
“Augusta,” I said.
There was not the most remote movement on her part.
“Augusta!” I said again.
Her lips quivered. She was repeating something softly under her breath.