Helena had just opened her mouth to comment on how amusing she found the whole affair when the novel rolled onto its side. With a snapping of covers and a fluttering of pages, the book scuttled along the floor in a hurried manner like some frightened paper creature. As it opened and closed, it pulled itself toward the wall with a surprising swiftness given it lacked legs, wings, or anything resembling an efficient means of propelling itself. In a matter of moments, the book had scampered to the wall. After a final spurt of its self-turning pages, it fell forward and produced a quiet thud.
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