The motive of her exclamation was
merged now in the fine ardor of the book-lover. She had an unconscious
trick of placing the forefinger of her right hand on her lips when
deeply engaged in thought. Elegant as Isobel Baring might be in her
studied poses, Elsie need fear no comparison as she examined the
contents of the bookcase with eager attention.
"Why the _Vicomte de Bragelonne_ only, and not the _Three Musketeers_?"
she mused aloud. "And if the _Life of Goethe_, why not his poems, his
essays, _Werther_?--Ah, I know--'the crowning offence of _Werther_.' A
Stevenson library! Each volume he recommends in 'Books which have
influenced men,' I suppose? What a charming idea! I shall never
forgive myself for not having thought of it long ago."
Courtenay laughed and blushed like any schoolgirl. Elsie's
appreciation had a downright, honest ring in it that went far beyond
the platitudes. She accorded him the ready comradeship of a kin soul.
"Many people have been surprised by my collection; you are the first to
discover its inspiration," he said.
"That is not strange. There are so few who read.
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