ooks of Samuel Butler, just to give her a little
intellectual jazz. The Wrong Box, because it's the best farce in the
language. Travels with a Donkey, to show her what good writing is
like. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to give her a sense of pity
for human woes--wait a minute, though: that's a pretty broad book for
young ladies. I guess we'll put it aside and see what else there is.
Some of Mr. Mosher's catalogues: fine! they'll show her the true
spirit of what one book-lover calls biblio-bliss. Walking-Stick
Papers--yes, there are still good essayists running around. A bound
file of The Publishers' Weekly to give her a smack of trade matters.
Jo's Boys in case she needs a little relaxation. The Lays of Ancient
Rome and Austin Dobson to show her some good poetry. I wonder if they
give them The Lays to read in school nowadays? I have a horrible fear
they are brought up on the battle of Salamis and the brutal redcoats of
'76. And now we'll be exceptionally subtle: we'll stick in a Robert
Chambers to see if she falls for it."

He viewed the shelf with pride. "Not bad," he said to himself. "I'll
just add this Leonard Merrick, Whispers about Women, to amuse her. I
bet that title will start her guessing. Helen will say I ought to have
included the Bible, but I'll omit it on purpose, just to see whether
the girl misses it."

With typical male curiosity he pulled out the bureau drawers to see
what disposition his wife had made of them, and was pleased to find a
little muslin bag of lavender dispersing a quiet fragrance in each.
"Very nice," he remarked. "Very nice indeed! About the only thing
missing is an ashtray. If Miss Titania is as modern as some of them,
that'll be the first thing she'll call for. And maybe a copy of Ezra
Pound's poems. I do hope she's not what Helen calls a bolshevixen."

There was nothing bolshevik about a glittering limousine that drew up
at the corner of Gissing and Swinburne streets early that afternoon. A
chauffeur in green livery opened the door, lifted out a suitcase of
beautiful brown leather, and gave a respectful hand to the vision that
emerged from depths of lilac-coloured upholstery.

"Where do you want me to carry the bag, miss?"

"This is the bitter parting," replied Miss Titania. "I don't want you
to know my address, Edwards. Some of my mad friends might worm it out
of you, and I don't want them coming down and bothering me. I am going
to be very busy