She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. ’ ‘I spit on your plan,’ Melusine told him furiously. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. 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.
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