‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. You were accused of having been seen with the latter. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. 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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