The shop had one window in King's Cross Road, but the entrance, with another window, was inRiceyman Steps. The King's Cross Road window held only cheap editions, in their paper jackets, ofpopular modern novels, such as those of Ethel M. Dell, Charles Garvice, Zane Grey, FlorenceBarclay, Nat Gould, and Gene Stratton Porter. The side window was set out with old books, firsteditions, illustrated editions, and complete library editions in calf or morocco of renowned andserious writers, whose works, indispensable to the collections of self-respecting book-gentlemen (asdistinguished from bookmen), have passed through decades of criticism into the impregnableparadise of eternal esteem. The side window was bound to attract the attention of collectors andbibliomaniacs. It seemed strangely, even fatally, out of place in that dingy and sordid neighbourhoodwhere existence was a dangerous and difficult adventure in almost frantic quest of food, drink andshelter, where the familiar and beloved landmarks were public-houses, and where the immensemajority of the population read nothing but sporting prognostications and results, and, on Sundaymornings, accounts of bloody crimes and juicy sexual irregularities.