Mr. Murray closed the door as he came in, and walking up to the book-cases, stood carefully examining the titles of the numerous volumes. It was a cold, dismal morning, and sobbing wintry winds and the ceaseless pattering of rain made the outer world seem dreary in comparison with the genial atmosphere and the ruddy glow of the cosy, luxurious library, where choice exotics breathed their fragrance and early hyacinths exhaled their rich perfume. In the centre of the morocco-covered table stood a tall glass bowl, filled with white camellias, and from its scalloped edges drooped a fringe of scarlet fuchsias; while near the window was a china statuette, in whose daily adornment Edna took unwearied interest. It was a lovely Flora, whose slender fingers held aloft small tulip-shaped vases, into which fresh blossoms were inserted every morning. The head was so arranged as to contain water, and thus preserve the wreath of natural flowers which crowned the goddess. To-day golden crocuses nestled down on the streaming hair, and purple pansies filled the fairy hands, while the tiny, rosy feet sank deep in the cushion of fine, green mosses, studded with double violets. Edna had risen to leave the room when the master of the house entered, but at his request resumed her seat and continued reading. After searching the shelves unavailingly, he glanced over his shoulder and asked: "Have you seen my copy of De Guerin's 'Centaur' anywhere about the house? I had it a week ago." "I beg your pardon, sir, for causing such a fruitless search; here is the book. I picked it up on the front steps, where you were reading a few afternoons since, and it opened at a passage that attracted my attention." She closed the volume and held it toward him, but he waved it back. "Keep it if it interests you. I have read it once, and merely wished to refer to a particular passage. Can you guess what sentence most frequently recurs to me? If so, read it to me." He drew a chair close to the hearth and lighted his cigar. Hesitatingly Edna turned the leaves. "I am afraid, sir, that my selection would displease you." "I will risk it, as, notwithstanding your flattering opinion to the contrary, I am not altogether so unreasonable as to take offense at a compliance with my own request." Still she shrank from the task he imposed, and her fingers toyed with the scarlet fuchsias; but after eyeing her for a while, he leaned forward and pushed the glass bowl beyond her reach. "Edna, I am waiting." "Well, then, Mr. Murray, I should think that these two passages would impress you with peculiar force." Raising the book she read with much emphasis: