“It—it—must come,” she faltered. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. "Adieu, my worthy uncle. 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. The signal of distress was evidently understood. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. Mr. “You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the backbone. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued.
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