She opened and read it at once. ‘Quick, Gérard. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. 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. Easy enough. People running, screaming, hiding. She’s taken my sword. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. ’ He endured the inevitable scold with patience, saluted Mrs Chalkney’s faded cheek, and went off to endure the necessary delay with what patience he could muster.
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