I have made out a list, so if you will come with me to the catalogue desk I will look out the numbers and ask you to write the tickets." The selection of a fresh batch of authorities occupied us for another quarter of an hour, and then, having handed in the volumes that we had squeezed dry, we took our way out of the reading-room.
"Which way shall we go ?" she asked as we passed out of the gate, where stood a massive policeman, like the guardian angel at the gate of Paradise (only, thank Heaven! he bore no flaming sword forbidding reentry).
"We are going," I replied, "to Museum Street, where is a milkshop in which one can get an excellent cup of tea." She looked as if she would have demurred, but eventually followed obediently, and we were soon seated side by side at a little marble-topped table, retracing the ground that we had covered in the afternoon's work and discussing various points of interest over a joint teapot.
"Have you been doing this sort of work long ?" I asked as she handed me my second cup of tea.
"Professionally," she answered, "only about two years; since we broke up our home, in fact.

But long before that I used to come to the Museum with my Uncle John--the one who disappeared, you know, in that dreadfully mysterious way--and help him to look up references.

We were quite good friends, he and I." "I suppose he was a very learned man ?" I suggested.
"Yes, in a certain way; in the way of the better-class collector he was very learned indeed.

He knew the contents of every museum in the world, in so far as they were connected with Egyptian antiquities, and had studied them specimen by specimen.

Consequently, as Egyptology is largely a museum science, he was a learned Egyptologist.