He had an idea of what might be said, and felt the awkwardness of it.
"That fellow Bates," he observed, "is devouring your book-case indiscriminately.

He seems to be in the sort of fever that needs distraction every moment.

I asked him what he'd have to read, and he said the next five on the shelf--he's read the first ten." "It's not of Bates I wish to speak; I want to know what you've decided to do.

Are you going to stick to your father's trade, or take to some other ?" Robert held one arm above his head, with his fingers through the leaves of the book he had been reading.

He tried to speak in a casual way, but they both had a disagreeable consciousness that the occasion was momentous.