The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. Love and companionship. “We are so interested to hear, Miss Pellissier,” she said, “that you have been living in Paris. ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. 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. " The hint was not lost upon Wood.
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