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. ” Her hands fell to her side. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet. He did not particularly care. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. ’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. ” “Very well.
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