He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. 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. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls.
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