"We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. 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. E. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically.
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