Chapter Eight
u.
I , I o be quite beyond embarrassment. I am only surprised.
t take a satisfaction from t I s o is someto me, o y of yourdays.
ingly my cill.
do you knohose?
I surmise, from my observation of the house . . .
No edly: do you this?
Of w, sir?
Of reys cing, now, of pography.
Pography?
Rivers, says Mr rey. You are a young man. I appeal to you. Can t record of tory act—
Record! says my uncle, peevisary! the age!
—of tory act, tograp t tograper to t of t is an image of life, and age over it: t it endures, finish and fade.
Dot a book endure? asks my uncle, plucking at the arm of his chair.
It enduret, in a pograp speak tograp in an Englis last us all, and I provoke in our grandsons. It is a t from ory.1
It is gripped by ory! ans is corrupted by it! Its ory it like so muc, in
tting of a slipper, a goograpo your grandson: udy t. tips of your moustac you think so Rivers?
I do, sir.
You kno alloypes and nonsense like t into my collection?
I t not to, sir.
Mr rey so my uncle: You still believe pograp come to reet, and spend an o c is all our buyers come for.
Your buyers are brutes. business is your opinion as to ty of reys trade . . .?
te alk until triking of ten oclock—whem.
t is t. Mr Rivers is due to remain at Briar until Sunday. Next day I am kept from t supper cero sit again come to my side. Saturday I see urda