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They
turned
to
stare
at
the
door
and
the
books
toppled
everywhere
,
everywhere
in
heaps
.
"
Beatty
!
"
said
Mildred
.
"
It
ca
n't
be
him
.
"
"
He
's
come
back
!
"
she
whispered
.
The
front
door
voice
called
again
softly
.
"
Someone
here
...
"
"
We
wo
n't
answer
.
"
Montag
lay
back
against
the
wall
and
then
slowly
sank
to
a
crouching
position
and
began
to
nudge
the
books
,
bewilderedly
,
with
his
thumb
,
his
forefinger
.
He
was
shivering
and
he
wanted
above
all
to
shove
the
books
up
through
the
ventilator
again
,
but
he
knew
he
could
not
face
Beatty
again
.
He
crouched
and
then
he
sat
and
the
voice
of
the
front
door
spoke
again
,
more
insistently
.
Montag
picked
a
single
small
volume
from
the
floor
.
"
Where
do
we
begin
?
"
He
opened
the
book
half-way
and
peered
at
it
.
"
We
begin
by
beginning
,
I
guess
.
"
"
He
'll
come
in
,
"
said
Mildred
,
"
and
burn
us
and
the
books
!
"
The
front
door
voice
faded
at
last
.
There
was
a
silence
.
Montag
felt
the
presence
of
someone
beyond
the
door
,
waiting
,
listening
.
Then
the
footsteps
going
away
down
the
walk
and
over
the
lawn
.
"
Let
's
see
what
this
is
,
"
said
Montag
.
He
spoke
the
words
haltingly
and
with
a
terrible
selfconsciousness
.
He
read
a
dozen
pages
here
and
there
and
came
at
last
to
this
:
