” She yelled back. 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. "Lean on me," said Jack. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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