“We came out right after supper,” said Titania as they entered, “so as to get in before the crowd.”

It is not so easy, however, to get ahead of Brooklyn movie fans.  They had to stand for several minutes in a packed lobby while a stern young man held the waiting crowd in check with a velvet rope.  Aubrey sustained delightful spasms of the protective instinct in trying to shelter Titania from buffets and pushings.  Unknown to her, his arm extended behind her like an iron rod to absorb the onward impulses of the eager throng.  A rustling groan ran through these enthusiasts as they saw the preliminary footage of the great Tarzan flash onto the screen, and realized they were missing something.  At last, however, the trio got through the barrier and found three seats well in front, at one side.  From this angle the flying pictures were strangely distorted, but Aubrey did not mind.

“Isn’t it lucky I got here when I did,” whispered Titania.  “Mr. Mifflin has just had a telephone call from Philadelphia asking him to go over on Monday to make an estimate on a library that’s going to be sold so I’ll be able to look after the shop for him while he’s gone.”

“Is that so?” said Aubrey.  “Well, now, I’ve got to be in Brooklyn on Monday, on business.  Maybe Mrs. Mifflin would let me come in and buy some books from you.”

“Customers always welcome,” said Mrs. Mifflin.

“I’ve taken a fancy to that Cromwell book,” said Aubrey. 
“What do you suppose Mr. Mifflin would sell it for?”

“I think that book must be valuable,” said Titania.  “Somebody came in this afternoon and wanted to buy it, but Mr. Mifflin wouldn’t part with it.  He says it’s one of his favourites.  Gracious, what a weird film this is!”

The fantastic absurdities of Tarzan proceeded on the screen, tearing celluloid passions to tatters, but Aubrey found the strong man of the jungle coming almost too close to his own imperious instincts.  Was not he, too—­he thought naively—­a poor Tarzan of the advertising jungle, lost among the elephants and alligators of commerce, and sighing for this dainty and unattainable vision of girlhood that had burst upon his burning gaze!  He stole a perilous side-glance at her profile, and saw the racing flicker of the screen reflected in tiny spangles of light that danced in her eyes.  He was even so unknowing as to imagine that she was not aware of his contemplation.  And then the lights went up.

“What nonsense, wasn’t it?” said Titania.  “I’m so glad it’s over!  I was quite afraid one of those elephants would walk off the screen and tread on us.”

“I never can understand,” said Helen, “why they don’t film some of the really good books—­think of Frank Stockton’s stuff, how delightful that would be.  Can’t you imagine Mr. and Mrs. Drew playing in Rudder Grange!”

“Thank goodness!” said Titania.  “Since I entered the book business, that’s the first time anybody’s mentioned a book that I’ve read.  Yes—­do you remember when Pomona and Jonas visit an insane asylum on their honeymoon?  Do you know, you and Mr. Mifflin remind me a little of Mr. and Mrs. Drew.”