"I know you'll not deceive me. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. ’ Gerald turned and came back to her. Gerald was instantly on the alert. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within.
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