h," said Tom, kindly authoritative.

"Can't," said Edwin.

"Bosh!" Charlie cried. "You were always spiffing in French. You could
simply knock spots off me."

"And do you read French in French, the Sunday?" Edwin asked.

"Well," said Charlie, "I must say it was Thomas put me up to it. You
simply begin to read, that's all. What you don't understand, you miss.
But you soon understand. You can always look at a dictionary if you
feel like it. I usually don't."

"I'm sure you could read French easily in a month," said Tom. "They
always gave a good grounding at Oldcastle. There's simply nothing in
it."

"Really!" Edwin murmured, relinquishing the book. "I must have a shot,
I never thought of it." And he never thought of reading French for
pleasure. He had construed Xavier de Maistre's "Voyage autour de ma
Chambre" for marks, assuredly not for pleasure. "Are there any books in
this style to be got on that bookstall in Hanbridge Market?" he inquired
of Tom.

"Sometimes," said Tom, wiping his spectacles. "Oh yes!"

It was astounding to Edwin how blind he had been to the romance of
existence in the Five Towns.

"It's all very well," observed Charlie reflectively, fingering one or
two of the other volumes--"it's all very well, and Victor Hugo is Victor
Hugo; but you can say what you like--there's a lot of this that'll bear
skipping, your worships."

"Not a line!" said a passionate, vibrating voice.

The voice so startled and thrilled Edwin that he almost jumped, as he
looked round. To Edwin it was dramatic; it was even dangerous and
threatening. He had never heard a quiet voice so charged with intense
emotion. Hilda Lessways had come back to the room, and she stood near
the door, her face gleaming in the dusk. She stood like an Amazonian
defender of the aged poet. Edwin asked himself, "Can any one be so
excited as that about a book?" The eyes, lips, and nostrils were a
revelation to him. He could feel his heart beating. But the girl
strongly repelled him. Nobody else appeared to be conscious that
anything singular had occurred. Jimmie and Johnnie sidled out of the
room.

"Oh! Indeed!" Charlie directed his candid and yet faintly ironic smile
upon Hilda Lessways. "Don't you think that some of it's dullish,
Teddy?"

Edwin blushed. "Well, ye-es," he answered, honestly judicial.

"Mrs Orgreave wants to know when you're coming to supper," said Hilda,
and left.

Tom was relocking the book