A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. 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. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features.
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