" Mr. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. She heard him come in; the light burned on. " "It must be restored instantly,—be the consequences what they may. 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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