“That’s right, you mean. Well, well, Duke, can this be it?”
She had opened one of the doors of the mahogany case and reached high from the basis of one toe. The volume she persuaded to fall down and which she caught was actually a bound issue of the Early English Text Society and contained the Digby and Coventry Plays.
“By all that’s wonderful! How did your eyes pick out that title so quickly?”
“Never looked at the title—way up there. What do you think I am, Senator, a telescope? Say! I just took a slant along the shelves.”
“A slant—along the shelves?”
“Right. I thought that maybe the ‘good’ Cosgrove had been taking a peep at the crucial volume lately and maybe hadn’t put it back quite even. Savvy? Now, let’s have a look.”
But she wrinkled both nose and forehead from the first sight of “Processus Noe cum filiis,” and fluttered the pages very much askance.
“I don’t get this stuff at all. What language is this?”
“English.”
“Why, it’s worse than Amurrican.”