to him this afternoon.

As far as he could remember it happened in this way. He was busy
getting the Greek dramatists into their places, an enterprise which
frequently took him to her end of the room where Sir Joseph had
established his classical library. He was sitting on the top of the
steps, when she approached him carrying six vellum bound volumes in
her arms, Sir Joseph's edition of Euripides of which the notes
exceeded the text. He dismounted and took the books from her, turning
very red as he did so.

"You should let me do all the carrying. These books are too heavy for
you."

"Thank you, I think they ought to go with the others, on this shelf."

He did not answer all at once. He was absorbed in the Euripides. It
was an _édition de luxe_, the Greek text exquisitely printed from a
fount of semi-uncial type, the special glory of the Harden Classics.

He exclaimed, "What magnificent type!"

She smiled.

"It's rare too. I've never seen any other specimen--in modern
printing."

"There is no other specimen," said she.

"Yes, there is. One book at least, printed, I think, in Germany."