“I wondered. “My Mom was a good lady. 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. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. When he arrived at Hoxton, he found the walls covered with placards offering a reward for his apprehension, and he everywhere appeared to be the general subject of conversation. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. She has also been afflicted with occasional returns of her terrible malady.
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