She had looked forward to an explanation. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. He always followed by showering her with kisses, embracing her tightly as she squirmed and giggled. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. 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. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again.
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