" "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. 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. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her.
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