But still he was a lover of good books, though he knew them chiefly
by hearsay. He was twenty-five years old, employed as a copywriter
by the Grey-Matter Advertising Agency.

The little room in which he found himself was plainly the
bookseller's sanctum, and contained his own private library.
Gilbert browsed along the shelves curiously. The volumes were
mostly shabby and bruised; they had evidently been picked up
one by one in the humble mangers of the second-hand vendor.
They all showed marks of use and meditation.

Mr. Gilbert had the earnest mania for self-improvement which has
blighted the lives of so many young men--a passion which, however,
is commendable in those who feel themselves handicapped by a college
career and a jewelled fraternity emblem. It suddenly struck him
that it would be valuable to make a list of some of the titles
in Mifflin's collection, as a suggestion for his own reading.
He took out a memorandum book and began jotting down the books
that intrigued him:



The Works of Francis Thompson (3 vols.)
Social History of Smoking: Apperson
The Path to Rome: Hilaire Belloc
The Book of Tea: Kakuzo
Happy Thoughts: F. C. Burnand
Dr. Johnson's Prayers and Meditations
Margaret Ogilvy: J. M. Barrie
Confessions of a Thug: Taylor