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. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him.
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