“Colour, yes, colour!”
He sat back and lit his pipe.
“I must get someone to start the plates. I know just what I want, but I don’t quite know the person to do it.”
He talked to himself—within himself.
“Rogers? No, too flamboyant, not true. I want truth. There’s Peterson. No, I don’t like Peterson’s style—too niggling. Loses the charm in trying to be too correct.”
He was disturbed by the opening of a door, and a sudden swelling of voices towards him. He half turned in his chair with the momentary impatience of a thinker disturbed.
“Let us look it up under ‘hygiene.’”
The library door opened, and the invasion displayed itself.
“We want to look at the encyclopædia, James.”
“It’s there!”