F. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard.
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