Eames suddenly looked quite troubled.
"They are," replied the bishop, who was not in a mood to discuss ethics
just then. "What are you going to do about it?" he added.
"About what?"
"This poetic omission on the part of Perrelli to mention the sirocco?"
"It has given me a deal of extra work, I can assure you. I have had to
go into the whole question. I have tabulated no less than fifty-seven
varieties of sirocco. Sailors' words, most of them; together with a
handful of antiquated terms. Fifty-seven varieties. Twenty-three
thousand words, up to the present, dealing the with south wind."
"That is a fair-sized foot-note," laughed the bishop. "A good slice of
a book, I should call it."
"My foot-notes are to be printed in small type. In fact, I am thinking
of casting the whole of this sirocco--material into an appendix. Too
much, you think? Surely the number of words is not disproportionate to
the subject? The south wind is a good slice of Nepenthe, is it not? . . .
Look! That cloud has made up its mind to come our way after all.
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