“Indeed,” she said, “I would not. Taber?" He wondered if this crystal being was interested in that blundering fool who had gone recklessly into the city. “She is likely somewhere on the road or perhaps in town, finding victims. 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. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.
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