*
Once,while I was walking in a park in London,I saw an old strange-looking man.He sat on a bench holding a closed book in his hands.I sat down on the bench and looked at the book.I saw that the book was of great interest. It was a very old copy of early Byron`s works.I looked at the old man in surprise and understood that he had known I was sitting on the bench because of him and the book he held in his hands.I smiled ."it is the last I have," he said and stretched it out to me.I took it with the words "I am a lover of old books".
