Sheppard, anxiously. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. 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. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. She's my mealticket. ” He followed up a line of thought. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. "The danger's past," whispered Bess.
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