She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. 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. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. His Dad is an electrical engineer at the same place as my dad works and his mom used to be a model, I’m not kidding. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts.
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