He was vaguely uneasy; he knew not what about. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. There was more shouting. 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.
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