"Oh," said the lady... "'The Face in the Drawer.' Oh ... I'll take this one then. You know the address, don't you? Good morning."
The requirement of the second lady was: "Something pretty ... not too short ... to last me through the week." Conrad almost expected to hear the librarian reply that they had "A very durable line at three-three," but she plucked again.
"Shall I like it?" inquired the lady trustfully.
The young woman, listless, but confident, told her that she was "Certain to like that."
"You're sure?" said the lady. "Oh, very well then—I'll have it. Good day."
The third subscriber was still more free from the vice of favouritism. She simply stated that she wanted "A nice book to read." The librarian handed a book to her, and she accepted it as unquestioningly as if it had been stamps in a post-office. In not one of the three cases had any author's name been mentioned. There are popular writers, there is a public besieging the libraries for their work, but the literary choice of the Nation is bulk for its twopence and the tale admired by the young woman at the desk.
"I hope you haven't been bored?" said Nina at last, holding out half-a-dozen volumes to be carried for her.
"Not in the faintest degree," cried Conrad.
But he was exceedingly bored on the morrow when Ted returned to dinner with elaborate excuses for bringing his visit to a sudden close. Yes, the host was bored then; he knew so well while he responded: "What a nuisance!" and "Of course it can't be helped," that Ted was not in the least needed in town, only dull in Sweetbay. They were all to have gone together to the "Orchestral Concert," and when the barrister alleged that he felt "too worn out," Conrad was not pressing. Nina went with him alone, and they walked some way before they spoke. She understood that he was hurt; dimly she understood that he had shown a stronger affection on his side than they had shown on theirs.
"So the experiment is a failure, Con?" she said.