Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. ’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed deeply. 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. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. This is clear over my head.
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