Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the west windows, making the titles on the book spines clearly visible and providing adequate light for reading, at least for a while. The smell of leather and tobacco and old books reminded Philip of his own library, which his father had stocked with every essential work of literature, sparing no expense. From these two walls of books, Philip surmised that Captain Moberly possessed a similar interest in the world of knowledge. He ran his fingers over the titles, as if that would help him make his choice. Shakespeare always provided an insightful diversion, but he felt the need for something more spiritual in nature. Perhaps Milton could help rid his mind of the afternoon’s outing and fill it with interesting information to discuss, should the need arise. Although he couldn’t count himself a desired guest, he’d been invited to stay and would offer his share of conversation to help make the evening pass pleasantly. More pleasantly than the day, he hoped.
