I
find these pages floating as through a haunted house; where the
proverbial bump in the night may merely be the settling of floor boards
or, if one is quite imaginative, the whimpering of a shade trapped in
the hoary rafters above one's bedchamber at 3 AM. And I have an uneasy
feeling most work utterly evaporates among the assorted lairs ofles livres très chic jutted along endless aisles of tomes blessed by undefinable fortune...or cast aside by indiscriminate fate.