The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. Marvel. She still could not muster the strength to leave. It isn't your duty. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. 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. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face.
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