But this I cannot do. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. But, moving through into the first of the large main rooms that led one into another around the house, with here and there an antechamber between, it was obvious that the task was not going to be easy. 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. Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old.
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