"Well," he said, "I had no idea that I had imagined anything so charming! If this critical bookstore doesn't succeed, it'll be because there are no critics. But what--what are these little things hung against the partitions of the shelves?" "Oh--mirrors. Little round ones." "But why mirrors of any shape?" "Nothing; only people like to see themselves in a glass of any shape. And when," Margaret added, in a burst of candor, "a woman looks up and sees herself with a book in her hand, she will feel so intellectual she will never put it down. She will buy it." "Margaret Green, this is immoral. Strike out those mirrors, or I will smash them every one!" "Oh, very well!" she said, and she rubbed them out with the top of her pencil. "If you want your place a howling wilderness." He looked at the ruin her rubber had wrought. "They _were_ rather nice. Could--could you rub them in again?" "Not if I tried a hundred years. Besides, they _were_ rather impudent. What time is it?" "No time at all. It's half-past three." "Dear me! I must be going. And if you're really going to start that precious critical bookstore in the fall, you must begin work on it right away." "Work?" "Reading up for it. If you're going to guarantee the books, you must know what's in them, mustn't you?" He realized that he must do what she said; he must know from his own knowledge what was in the books he offered for sale, and he began reading, or reading _at_, the new books immediately. He was a good deal occupied by day with the arrangement of his store, though he left it mainly with the lively young decorator who undertook for a lump sum to realize Margaret Green's ideas. It was at night that he did most of his reading in the spring books which the publishers were willing to send him gratis, when they understood he was going to open a bookstore, and only wanted sample copies. As long as she remained in town Margaret Green helped him read, and they talked the books over, and mostly rejected them. By the time she went to Europe in August with another elderly girl they had not chosen more than eight or ten books; but they hoped for better things in the fall. Word of what he was doing had gone out from Margaret, and a great many women of their rather esthetic circle began writing to him about the books they were reading, and commending them to him or warning him against them. The circle of his volunteer associates enlarged itself in the nature of an endless chain, and before society quite broke up for the summer a Sympathetic Tea was offered to Erlcort by a Leading Society Woman at the Intellectual Club, where he was invited to address the Intellectuals in explanation of his project. This was before Margaret sailed, and he hurried to her in horror. "Why, of course you must accept. You're not going to hide your Critical Bookstore under a bushel; you can't have too much publicity."