are so very frightful. Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.' You often read that, you say?"
"If I read anything."
"Yes." He looked down and up the shelf. "Sport and Travel chiefly. I like books of travel, don't you?"
"They're pretty dull as a rule."
"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony, reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. "The Drama. The Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well remark, many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson—I like reading plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do are usually very keen. Let us pass on."
"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
"We haven't. That's why we aren't wasting any. Poetry. Who reads poetry nowadays? Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise Lost'?"
"Never."
"I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The Excursion' aloud to you?"
"As a matter of fact, Betty—Miss Calladine—happens to be jolly keen on what's the beggar's name?"
"Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on."
He moved on to the next shelf.
