"_Manuel--du--Répertoire--Bibliographique--Universel...._ Yes, I've got that.... _Paris, 44, Rue de Rennes...._ Now the other book, please.... _Decimal Classification and Relative Index...._ Yes.... _Melvil Dewey...._ Is that enough to identify them?" Then a rapid perfunctory gush, a "Thank you _so_ much," the receiver clapped on again, and re-enter Julia, her face ashine with triumph. "Well, did you hear all that?" she said. "You can take me along to the British Museum as soon as you like. You'll have to get me into the reading-room, because I haven't a ticket. Then if I were you I should trot away off to Haslemere." "Who's that you were talking to?" "A most fearful bore I met at the Airds' at dinner last night. At least I thought he was a bore then. Now he's a duck and an angel and I could kiss him all over his bald old head. Goodness is _always_ rewarded, George, but not often the next morning like this." She clapped her hands. "You're less comprehensible than ever I knew you, which is saying a good deal." "Dear old George! When you're bald I'll kiss you too. And Derry _shall_ write his book." "And fight Carpentier?" "Poodledoodle!" And she flitted out again, unfastening her painting-blouse at the back as she went. I knew enough of Miss Oliphant by this time to treat her apparent irresponsibilities with respect. I had never heard of either of the books of which she had spoken over the telephone, but I risked a guess at their nature--_Bibliographique Universel_--_Decimal Classification_--evidently the subject was indexing, and she had met somebody at dinner the night before who had led her into these arid fields. Naturally she had been bored. But now she was in a rapture of plotting and machination. She intended to assist and encourage Derry in that inordinate plan of his. She came in again, dressed for walking, humming a blithe tune. "Dear, dear Providence! There was I ready to snap Madge's head off for seizing quite a nice man herself and giving me old Drybones, but now I'm going to send her some flowers. See the idea, George?" "What are these books?" "The very latest thing in the way of indexing. It lasted nearly the whole of dinner. Oh, I _love_ myself for being so good! He drooled along, and I said 'How thrilling' and things like that, thinking of something else all the time, and now _this_ gorgeous piece of luck!" "A Universal Index?" "Yes, of the whole of human knowledge. It's all done with decimals--or do they call them semicolons? Dots anyway. You can turn up anything from the solar system to a packet of pins at a moment's notice. If Derry doesn't know about it he'll dance with joy.... But come along. I must see those books. Let's go by bus. You can get me a reader's ticket, can't you?" She pushed me out in front of her and closed the door with a reckless bang. All the way to the bus she talked as delightedly as if it had been her birthday.