Chapter 38
Book V. Chapter XXXVIII Anna drove to the chemist's for Owen's remedy. On the way she stopped her cab at a book-shop, and emerged from it laden with literature. She knew what would interest Owen, and what he was likely to have read, and she had made her choice among the newest publications with the promptness of a discriminating reader. But on the way back to the hotel she was overcome by the irony of adding this mental panacea to the other. There was something grotesque and almost mocking in the idea of offering a judicious selection of literature to a man setting out on such a journey. "He knows...he knows..." she kept on repeating; and giving the porter the parcel from the chemist's she drove away without leaving the books. She went to her apartment, whither her maid had preceded her.
- Writer
