The rain brings in another tribesman--a famed though somewhat ragged
bibliomaniac. His casual gestures hide the sudden fever old books kindle
in his thought. Old books--old books, a magical phrase to him. His eyes
travel like a lover's back and forth, up and down. He knows them all--the
sets, the first editions, the bargains, the riff-raff. A democratic lover
is here. But the clerk watches him. For this lover is an antagonist. Yes,
this somewhat ragged, gleaming-eyed gentleman with the casual manner is a
terrible person to have around in a second-hand book store on a rainy day.
Only six months ago one of his horrible tribe pounced upon Sander's
"Indian Wars," price 30 cents; value, alas, $150.00. Only two months ago
another of his kidney fell upon a copy of Jean Jacques Rosseau's "Emile"
with Jean's own dedication on the title page to "His Majesty, the King of
France." Price 75 cents; value, gadzooks, $200.
There will be nothing today, however. Merely an hour's caress of old
friends on the high shelves while the rain beats outside. Unless--unless
this Stevenson happens by any chance to be a "first." A furtive glance at
the title page. No. The clerk sighs with relief as the Stevenson goes back
on the shelf.
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