She had not even endorsed it. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. And not a worthy tome in sight. Anything that might stir the sense of love And God has mocked me through it all.
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