” He stared in amazement at this new aspect of the situation. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. 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. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police.
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