Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. I have unfinished business.
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