" "How long will you be here?" "To-morrow night. ‘Come along. ” “Hah!” He threw his head back. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. 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 had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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