He was now padding softly round the room, and stopped to stir the books on the table.

They lay heaped one upon another.
"We shall want some poets too," he remarked.

"Not Gibbon; no; d'you happen to have _Modern_ _Love_ or _John_ _Donne_?
You see, I contemplate pauses when people get tired of looking at the view, and then it would be nice to read something rather difficult aloud." "Mrs.Paley _will_ enjoy herself," said Hirst.
"Mrs.Paley will enjoy it certainly," said Hewet.

"It's one of the saddest things I know--the way elderly ladies cease to read poetry.

And yet how appropriate this is: I speak as one who plumbs Life's dim profound, One who at length can sound Clear views and certain.
But--after love what comes?
A scene that lours, A few sad vacant hours, And then, the Curtain.
I daresay Mrs.Paley is the only one of us who can really understand that." "We'll ask her," said Hirst.