At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. 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. Blueskin, you are a true friend. Gay," he added, turning to the poet.
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