He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. I swear it. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament. No matter what happened, whether the road smoothed out or became still rougher, he would always be carrying this secret with him; and each time he recalled it, the rack. 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. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. His number was unlisted and unpublished. . You have been burning paper, I see. .
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