“Here is my recipe for a mood enhancer. Take a friend, preferably one with a really annoying fringe and outsize pants, and when she is rambling on swiftly, push her into a ditch and run away.”

“Perhaps thee will best understand what Abigail is like if I tell thee that when she quilts she prefers to stitch in the ditch, hiding her poor stitches in the seams between the blocks.”

“From then on I had her in my memory with so much clarity that I could do what I wanted with her. I changed the color of her eyes according to my state of mind: the color of water when she woke, the color of syrup when she laughed, the color of light when she was annoyed. I dressed her according to the age and condition that suited my changes of mood: a novice in love at twenty, a parlor whore at forty, the queen of Babylon at seventy, a saint at one hundred.”

“I’m taking off my shoes.’’ ‘‘Fine. Shoes off.’’ ‘‘And my pants.’’ ‘‘Don’t push it, Claire.”

“I’d like to be your friend,” Gabriel said, gazing down at her. “And I’m going to keep my little friend very close to make sure she doesn’t run away again.”

“From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood.”