Today I was upstairs shelving books in the library I work at. Because we have much less to shelve in the limited library of the Pandemic, these days this it is a rare burden/pleasure. I never have been clear in all the years of my shelving as to which it is, burden or pleasure. It's definitely one of them, possibly both, and certainly not neither.
I soon came across the Jane Austens, and I noticed a book in there I'd not seen before:
Minor Works
I thought:
This is an unusual way to title a copy of Northanger Abbey.
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