Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. 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. ” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site.
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