"I'm not sorry I took it," he answered. "Of course everything is more or less a disappointment except the unattainable. When Columbus reached the new world at last, the aborigines said, 'Well, what do you think of Amurrica?' He said, 'I thought it would be bigger.' A bird in the hand is not worth two in the bush; on the contrary, a lark in the sky is worth two in the pudding. If you ever scratched those pretty hands of yours getting a glow-worm out of a hedge, you know that, when you have brought it home, you wondered why you had given yourself so much inconvenience to acquire the little impostor. Possession strains--it depresseth her that gives, and him that takes. While it was in the hedge, the glow-worm shone no less divine than the poet's star." "Where was that?" she said. "In a fable. Did you think I meant a star of the music-halls? They weren't the fashion in poetry yet. He was a glorious poet enchanted by a star of the heavens. He stretched his arms to it, he sang to it nightly. And for his sake the star 'stooped earthward, and became a woman.' And then the day came when the woman asked her lover which was best--'The Star's beam, or the Woman's breast':-- "'I miss from heaven,' the man replied, 'A light that drew my spirit to it.' And to the man the woman sigh'd, 'I miss from earth a poet.'" "M-m, that's rather sensible," admitted Nina, "I like that--I suppose it can't be really great poetry. What get on my nerves so in the poetry of the Really Great are those irritating words that I knew were coming, like 'porphyry' and 'empyrean,' and 'bower' and 'nymph;' and then there are the titles--they always sound so dull because I never know what they mean. Well, go on talking to me." About eleven o'clock the downpour ceased, and presently a timid sunbeam played upon a puddle. They went out to look for a library at noon. There was no need for umbrellas. The librarian was a listless young woman of "superior manners." When not occupied among the literature, she assisted in the fancy department. While Nina was lingering at the shelves, three other readers went to the counter, and the first lady said:-- "Good morning. I want a ... book. Something--er--rather exciting." The young woman threw an omniscient glance at the collection, and plucked. The lady read the title aloud:-- "Is this rather exciting?" "Oh yes, madam, that is very exciting." "Oh." She ruffled the pages irresolutely. "It's not very long," she murmured; "haven't you anything longer?" The young woman plucked. "Is this rather exciting?" asked the lady. The librarian assured her that it was no less exciting than the other novel. "Oh," said the lady... "'The Face in the Drawer.' Oh ... I'll take this one then. You know the address, don't you? Good morning."