“Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. She spoke slowly. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her. It was bleeding again. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead.
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