Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. Dump and the village authorities, it was agreed to lock up the prisoner in the cage. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. 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. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. She drew a long breath. “Much better.
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