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. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. There must be something we can do. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful. Very romantic and all that.
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