Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. 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. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees.
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