"Er, no?" He looked at Gabriel, puzzled, and then tried to imagine what he was talking about. "Oh, the - the little pamphlets with pictures in them. People tried to sell those to me sometimes. As used books. Not books at all." He shook a finger seriously. "Not the same."

Aziraphale watched with concern, not entirely aware of the tilting at the edge of his own vision, or else purposefully trying to avoid it. "Maybe . . . maybe we should stop," he said. "Who won?"