But the plunge had to be made some time; he might as well make it now.
From the threshold of the Junior Journalists' he looked back across the side street, as across a gulf, at the place he had just left.

His eyes moved from the jutting sign-board at the corner, announcing _Gentlemen's Libraries Purchased_, to the legend that ran above the window, blazoned in letters of gold: _Isaac Rickman: New & Second-Hand Bookseller._ His connexion with it was by no means casual and temporary.

It was his father's shop..