"I'm leaving Chartcote," he said, and was glad to think it was true.
"This week?" asked Bingham.
"No," said Boreham, suddenly wild with indignation, "but any time—next week, perhaps."
"This job will only take four or five days," said Bingham.
"What job?" demanded Boreham.
"There's a small library just been given us by the widow of a General."
"Didn't know soldiers ever read books," said Boreham.
"I don't know if he read them," said Bingham, "but there they are. We want some one to look through them—put aside the sort suitable for hospitals, and make a catalogue raisonné of the others for the camps in Germany."
Boreham wanted to say, "Be damned with your raisonné," but he limited himself to saying: "Can't you get some college chaplain, or some bloke of the sort to do it?"
"All are thick busy," said Bingham—"those that are left."