He filled her glass with champagne. "Do you call this frantic glee happiness?" "It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming suddenly calm, "and it's short-lived enough, as you perceive. “If you speak—farewell. 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. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. It fell to the ground and smoked ominously. "That's odd. Saw the villain through the keyhole.
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