which told of quick but unsteady thought; a mouth, too, which
expressed a good deal of self-will and probably a strain of
sensuality. His manner was hearty, his look frank to a fault and
full of sensibility.

'I found it at the shop by Westminster Bridge,' he continued. 'You
ought to go and have a look there to-night. I saw one or two things
pretty cheap that I thought were in your way.'

'What's the other?' Grail inquired, returning the work on
electricity, which he had glanced through without show of much
interest.

'Oh, this belongs to Jo Bunce,' Ackroyd replied, laughing. 'He's
just lent it me.'

It was a collection of antitheistic discourses; the titles, which
were startling to the eye, sufficiently indicated the scope and
quality of the matter. Grail found even less satisfaction in this
than in the other volume.

'A man must have a good deal of time to spare,' he said, with a
smile, 'if he spends it on stuff of that kind.'

'Oh, I don't know about that. You don't need it, but there's plenty
of people that do.'

'And that's the kind of thing Bunce gives his children to read, eh?'

'Yes; he's bringing them up on it. He's made them learn a