a of what it's like?'
'Certainly I can. I've seen it a hundred times in this very room; in fact it's always here, except when it's wanted.'
Edith went down on her knees in front of the bookcase and cross-questioned Bruce on the physiognomy of the volume. She asked whether it was a novel, whether it was blue, whether it belonged to the library, whether it was Stevenson, whether it was French, or if it was suitable for the children.
To all of these questions he returned a negative.
'Suitable for the children?' he repeated. 'What a fantastic idea! Do you think I should take all this trouble to come and request your assistance and spend hours of valuable time looking for a book that's suitable for the children?'
'But, Bruce, if you request my assistance without having the slightest idea of what book it is, how shall I possibly be able to help?'
'Quite so ... quite so. Never mind, Edith, don't trouble. If I say that it's a pity there isn't more order in the house you won't regard it, I hope, dear