‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. 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. \" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts.
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