Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. 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 inside was empty except for an infant, which from a distance looked utterly normal.
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