His original intention had been to bestow this patronage upon the old bookseller, but these suavely smart people in "Thurston's" had had the effect of putting him on his honor when they asked, "Would there be anything else ?" and he had followed them unresistingly.
He indulged to the full his whim that everything entering into the construction of "Abraham" should be spick-and-span.

He watched with his own eyes a whole ream of broad glazed white paper being sliced down by the cutter into single sheets, and thrilled with a novel ecstasy as he laid his hand upon the spotless bulk, so wooingly did it invite him to begin.

He tried a score of pens before the right one came to hand.
When a box of these had been laid aside, with ink and pen-holders and a little bronze inkstand, he made a sign that the outfit was complete.
Or no--there must be some blotting-paper.

He had always used those blotting-pads given away by insurance companies--his congregations never failed to contain one or more agents, who had these to bestow by the armful--but the book deserved a virgin blotter.
Theron stood by while all these things were being tied up together in a parcel.

The suggestion that they should be sent almost hurt him.