‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. The signs of the shops were carried to incredible distances. 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. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up.
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