He put the task off day after day, shrinking from the wrench of all the ties which made his life happy.
One day, however, finding himself alone with Mr Rimbolt in the library, he suddenly resolved then and there to speak out.
"Oh, Jeffreys," began Mr Rimbolt, "I am very anxious to get those books from the Wanley Abbey sale looked through and catalogued within the next few days if you can manage it.

We all go up to London, you know, next week, and I should be glad to have all square before we start." "I have no doubt they can all be gone through before then." "I should like you to come to town, too," said Mr Rimbolt.

"Percy sets great store by your companionship; besides which, there are some very important book sales coming on in which I shall want your help." "I had been going to ask you--" began Jeffreys, feeling his temples throbbing like two steam-engines.
"Oh, by the way," interrupted Mr Rimbolt, taking a letter from his pocket, "did not you tell me you were at a school called Bolsover ?" "Yes," faltered Jeffreys, wondering what was coming.
"It's very odd.

I have a letter from an old Oxford acquaintance of mine, called Frampton, who appears to be head-master there, and whom I have never heard of for about sixteen years.

He is fond of books, and writes to ask if he may come and see the library.