He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. “Mr. 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. Mr. She pulled her hand away quickly. She had trouble outwitting him as he seemed to predict her words before he said them. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. ” “No, mine. . The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light.
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