Chapter 47

The room in which he sat at night was the library of his apartment. In it were reminders of Virginia—the ladder-back chair was opposite his own on the hearth, the needle-point stool was set foursquare on the rug, the silver candlesticks shone on the mantel above the fireplace. He wished that he had the strength to put them out of his sight. He did not want reminders, yet something held him from breaking definitely from the few tangible things which bound him to her. He would have then, only memories. It was on a wi…