" Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. 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. Home!— which I never hoped to see again. " Broken pipes littered the floor, if that can be said to be littered, which, in the first instance, was a mass of squalor and filth. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet.
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