Лето
I
“Haveyouacard-catalogue?”heaskedinapleasantabruptvoice;andtheoddnessofthequestioncausedhertodropherwork.
“AWHAT?”
“Why,youknow——”Hebrokeoff,andshebecameconsciousthathewaslookingatherforthefirsttime,havingapparently,onhisentrance,includedherinhisgeneralshort-sightedsurveyaspartofthefurnitureofthelibrary.
Thefactthat,indiscoveringher,helostthethreadofhisremark,didnotescapeherattention,andshelookeddownandsmiled.Hesmiledalso.
“No,Idon’tsupposeyoudoknow,”hecorrectedhimself.“Infact,itwouldbealmostapity——”
Shethoughtshedetectedaslightcondescensioninhistone,andaskedsharply:“Why?”
“Becauseit’ssomuchpleasanter,inasmalllibrarylikethis,topokeaboutbyone’sself—withthehelpofthelibrarian.”
Headdedthelastphrasesorespectfullythatshewasmollified,andrejoinedwithasigh:“I’mafraidIcan’thelpyoumuch.”
“Why?”hequestionedinhisturn;andsherepliedthatthereweren’tmanybooksanyhow,andthatshe’dhardlyreadanyofthem.“Thewormsaregettingatthem,”sheaddedgloomily.
“Arethey?That’sapity,forIseetherearesomegoodones.”Heseemedtohavelostinterestintheirconversation,andstrolledawayagain,apparentlyforgettingher.Hisindifferencenettledher,andshepickedupherwork,resolvednottoofferhimtheleastassistance.Apparentlyhedidnotneedit,forhespentalongtimewithhisbacktoher,liftingdown,oneafteranother,thetallcob-webbyvolumesfromadistantshelf.