Mr. Urquhart proceeded. “We must select, my friend. We must select. All history lies in selection. We can’t put in everything. We must put in only what’s got pith and sap and salt. Things like adulteries, murders, and fornications.”

“Are we to have any method of selection?” Wolf enquired.

Mr. Urquhart chuckled. “Do you know what I’ve thought?” he said. “I’ve thought that I’d like to get the sort of perspective on human occurrences that the bedposts in brothels must come to possess⁠—and the counters of barrooms⁠—and the butlers’ pantries in old houses⁠—and the muddy ditches in long-frequented lovers’ lanes.”

“It’s in fact a sort of Rabelaisian chronicle you wish to write?” threw in Wolf.