I cannot say, but I found my o ty minutes earlier to attend. It  a problem.  better place to kill time t better o get to knoreatment of books?

    My first impression  struck me by its marked difference from t of ted , sters at tall h solid oak shelves.

    It o floor; at ts alled. Facing tioned to reflect tside, but tonigters. tended from to table. Apart from t ting, and it created soft, ion at ted into darkness.

    Sloer of taking a look to t and left. After my first glances I found myself nodding. It ained library. Categorized, alpized and clean, it  as I es  number of rare and valuable volumes as  only Jane Eyre, uts, te, but tle of Otranto, Lady Audley’s Secret, tre Bride. I o come across a Jekyll and Mr.  my fats existence.

    Marveling at tion of volumes on Miss inter’s so t, one particular set of sood it even from some distance: Instead of displaying tly broripes t ack s decades. ter’s o titles at top of tack and ;cent novels at ttom, eaced in its many different editions and even in different languages. I saeen tales, titled book I  t in its otales of Cion t editions.

    I selected a copy of Miss inter’s most recent book. On page one an elderly nun arrives at a small reets of an unnamed to seems to be in Italy; so a room o be Engliss urned t paragrap as I ime I  meaning to, I began to read in earnest.) t at first appreciate ands: t or  er is life in ed to foresee. Sion and bears it patiently (I turned tten tten Miss inter, forgotten myself) s y o