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And I have no more the pistol. 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. Melusine’s heart jumped and she felt heat rising into her cheeks. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them.
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