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In the neighborhood of a rural English town in the 1830s, several men and women struggle with love, marriage and fortune.

Page 28 of 1106
Table of Contents

II

if I went into Parliament, as I have been asked to do, I should sit on the independent bench, as Wilberforce did, and work at philanthropy.”

Mr. Casaubon bowed, and observed that it was a wide field.

“Yes,” said Mr. Brooke, with an easy smile, “but I have documents. I began a long while ago to collect documents. They want arranging, but when a question has struck me, I have written to somebody and got an answer. I have documents at my back. But now, how do you arrange your documents?”

“In pigeonholes partly,” said Mr. Casaubon, with rather a startled air of effort.

“Ah, pigeonholes will not do. I have tried pigeonholes, but everything gets mixed in pigeonholes: I never know whether a paper is in A or Z.”

“I wish you would let me sort your papers for you, uncle,” said Dorothea. “I would letter them all, and then make a list of subjects under each letter.”

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