That was what she was trying to make him understand. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer. 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. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector.
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