” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. 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. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. ‘Oh, mon dieu. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table.
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