A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. “Girls.
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