Book Excerpt: nate the little room. He was stilltalking, or rather jerking, and he was still lighting matches anddropping their ends upon the carpet. Now and then he would make amotion with his feet as if he were running quickly backwardupstairs, and would tread on the edge of the fender, so that thefire-irons went flying and the buttered-bun dishes crashedagainst each other in the hearth. The other philosophers werecrouched in odd shapes on the sofa and table and chairs, and one, who was a little bored, had crawled to the piano and was timidlytrying the Prelude to Rhinegold with his knee upon the softpedal. The air was heavy with good tobacco-smoke and the pleasantwarmth of tea, and as Rickie became more sleepy the events of theday seemed to float one by one before his acquiescent eyes. Inthe morning he had read Theocritus, whom he believed to be thegreatest of Greek poets; he had lunched with a merry don and hadtasted Zwieback biscuits; then he had walked with people heliked, and had walked just long enougRead Mor.