’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. 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. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. Then it dawned. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. \" She fibbed. Shall we turn back?" "And disappoint Mr. ” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. . "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver.
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