"Pleased to meet you, sir," murmured Mr. Pawley. "I observed that you were doing something in your line when I saw you and Miss—I didn't catch the young lady's name, I think—Miss———?"
"Durham!" said Parslewe. "Durham!"
"Just so, sir—Miss Durham. Ah!—and a very pleasant country this is, Mr. Craye, for your form of art—and very delightful quarters, I'm sure," added Mr. Pawley, with a bow towards our host. "And you were saying, Mr. Parslewe———?"
Madrasia, with an odd glance at me, went out of the room, and Parslewe, who, I thought, already looked bored to death by his visitor, turned to him.
"I was saying that if you're really interested in that sort of thing—barrows and stone circles and so on, I'm scarcely the man to come to," he said. "My tastes lie more chiefly in books. If you're going to stay in the district a while, I can give you a list of titles of books—local and otherwise—that you can read up. I think you'd find all of them in the various libraries at Newcastle."
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Parslewe,
