elizabethbailey. ’ The lady frowned suspiciously. Not up here, I think. ” His rhythm slowed to a grind. How would he act when he learned that it had vanished? She gathered up the manuscripts and restored them to the envelope. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. All this torrent of misleading, spurious stuff that pours from the press.
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