"Time enough," he said.
I continued by a reference to the advantages which we enjoyed over our fathers and grandfathers in the multiplicity of cheap books. "Those wonderful sevenpennies!" I said.
He agreed. He had often spent ten minutes at a junction in looking at them.
"And the shilling books," I said. "The more serious ones--'Everyman's Library,' and all that sort of thing. Most remarkable!"
He had noticed those too, but still he offered no views of his own.
I saw that he was one of the uncommunicative kind. Information must be drawn forcibly from him.
"And the two-shilling novels," I said--"they're wonderful too."
I But his eyes did not light; his I purple mask kept its secrets.
"The two-shilling ones," I repeated, with emphasis on the price. Hang it, how slow he was.
Still he said nothing.
"So much better than the old yellowbacks at that figure," I said.
He was, if anything, more silent.
Clearly I must plunge. "