"Answer it, you chump!" said Roger. "We'll lose the connection!"
"Nix," said Aubrey. "If Titania hears my voice she'll ring off.
She's sore at me."
Roger ran to the instrument. "Hullo, hullo?" he said, irritably.
"Hullo, is that Wordsworth----? Yes, I'm calling Brooklyn--Hullo!"
Aubrey, leaning over Roger's shoulder, could hear a clucking in
the receiver, and then, incredibly clear, a thin, silver, distant voice.
How well he knew it! It seemed to vibrate in the air all about him.
He could hear every syllable distinctly. A hot perspiration burst out
on his forehead and in the palms of his hands.
"Hullo," said Roger. "Is that Mifflin's Bookshop?"
"Yes," said Titania. "Is that you, Mr. Mifflin? Where are you?"
"In Philadelphia," said Roger. "Tell me, is everything all right?"
"Everything's dandy," said Titania. "I'm selling loads of books.
Mrs. Mifflin's gone out to do some shopping."
Aubrey shook to hear the tiny, airy voice, like a trill of birdsong,
like a tinkling from some distant star. He could imagine her standing
at the phone in the back of the shadowy bookshop, and seemed to see her
as though through an inverted telescope, very minute and very perfect.
How brave and exquisite she was!
"When are you coming home?" she was saying.
"About seven o'clock," said Roger. "Listen, is everything absolutely
O. K.?"
"Why, yes," said Titania. "I've been having lots of fun.
I went down just now and put some coal on the furnace. Oh, yes.
Mr. Weintraub came in a little while ago and left a suitcase of books.
He said you wouldn't mind. A friend of his is going to call for them
this afternoon."
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