& Discount, the publishers, and make a kick about them,
and see what they'll do."

I felt that I had lingered long enough. I drew near with
the Epictetus in my hand.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Sellyer, professional again in a
moment. "Epictetus? A charming thing. Eighteen cents.
Thank you. Perhaps we have some other things there that
might interest you. We have a few second-hand things in
the alcove there that you might care to look at. There's
an Aristotle, two volumes--a very fine thing--practically
illegible, that you might like: and a Cicero came in
yesterday--very choice--damaged by damp--and I think we
have a Machiavelli, quite exceptional--practically torn
to pieces, and the covers gone--a very rare old thing,
sir, if you're an expert."

"No, thanks," I said. And then from a curiosity that had
been growing in me and that I couldn't resist, "That
book--Golden Dreams," I said, "you seem to think it a
very wonderful work?"

Mr. Sellyer directed one of his shrewd glances at me. He
knew I didn't want to buy the book, and perhaps, like
lesser people, he had his off moments of confidence.

He shook his head.

"A bad business," he said. "The publishers have unloaded