Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “It isn’t anything to do with our times particularly. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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