The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. "Close the doors below! Loose the dogs! Curses! they don't hear me! I'll ring the alarm-bell. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. 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. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window.
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