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- Стр. 15/70
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Glennard
took
the
book
with
sudden
eagerness
.
“
Who
was
Madame
Commanville
?
”
“
His
sister
.
”
He
was
conscious
that
Flamel
was
looking
at
him
with
the
smile
that
was
like
an
interrogation
point
.
“
I
didn
’
t
know
you
cared
for
this
kind
of
thing
.
”
“
I
don
’
t
—
at
least
I
’
ve
never
had
the
chance
.
Have
you
many
collections
of
letters
?
”
“
Lord
,
no
—
very
few
.
I
’
m
just
beginning
,
and
most
of
the
interesting
ones
are
out
of
my
reach
.
Here
’
s
a
queer
little
collection
,
though
—
the
rarest
thing
I
’
ve
got
—
half
a
dozen
of
Shelley
’
s
letters
to
Harriet
Westbrook
.
I
had
a
devil
of
a
time
getting
them
—
a
lot
of
collectors
were
after
them
.
”
Glennard
,
taking
the
volume
from
his
hand
,
glanced
with
a
kind
of
repugnance
at
the
interleaving
of
yellow
cris
-
crossed
sheets
.
“
She
was
the
one
who
drowned
herself
,
wasn
’
t
she
?
”
Flamel
nodded
.
“
I
suppose
that
little
episode
adds
about
fifty
per
cent
.
to
their
value
,
”
he
said
,
meditatively
.
Glennard
laid
the
book
down
.
He
wondered
why
he
had
joined
Flamel
.
He
was
in
no
humor
to
be
amused
by
the
older
man
’
s
talk
,
and
a
recrudescence
of
personal
misery
rose
about
him
like
an
icy
tide
.
“
I
believe
I
must
take
myself
off
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
’
d
forgotten
an
engagement
.
”
He
turned
to
go
;
but
almost
at
the
same
moment
he
was
conscious
of
a
duality
of
intention
wherein
his
apparent
wish
to
leave
revealed
itself
as
a
last
effort
of
the
will
against
the
overmastering
desire
to
stay
and
unbosom
himself
to
Flamel
.
The
older
man
,
as
though
divining
the
conflict
,
laid
a
detaining
pressure
on
his
arm
.
