1 "The mirror of the soul" books were.
2 I was reading that in a book this morning.
3 Here, Papa, take your book and read aloud.
4 "And leaving books on the floor," said her brother.
5 It did not rank among the houses that are mentioned in guide books.
6 Or for the matter of that book learning; or skilful practice on pianos; or laying on of paint.
7 The words weren't worth writing in the book bound like an account book in case Giles suspected.
8 Then she ran her hand over the sunk books in the wall on the landing, as if they were pan pipes.
9 "The library's always the nicest room in the house," she quoted, and ran her eyes along the books.
10 No, I could tell him a mile off the way he strides the waves like what d'you call him in the picture book.
11 For her generation the newspaper was a book; and, as her father-in-law had dropped the Times, she took it and read: "A horse with a green tail."
12 She in her striped dress continued him, murmuring, in front of the book cases: "The moor is dark beneath the moon, rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beams of even."
13 For as the train took over three hours to reach this remote village in the very heart of England, no one ventured so long a journey, without staving off possible mind-hunger, without buying a book on a bookstall.
14 The fire greyed, then glowed, and the tortoiseshell butterfly beat on the lower pane of the window; beat, beat, beat; repeating that if no human being ever came, never, never, never, the books would be mouldy, the fire out and the tortoiseshell butterfly dead on the pane.