‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. . The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. 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. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went.
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