“She came into a room; she stood, as he had often seen her, in a doorway with lots of people round her. But it was Clarissa one remembered. Not that she was striking; not beautiful at all; there was nothing picturesque about her; she never said anything specially clever; there she was however; there she was.”

“Not that she was striking; not beautiful at all; there was nothing picturesque about her; she never said anything specially clever; there she was, however; there she was.”

“She savored their conversation, and often, when doing her chores, she remembered the words he said to her and how hopeful he was that she might kiss him again. Now she wished she had. because one kiss is not enough.”

“The young man had killed himself; but she did not pity him; with the clock striking the hour, one, two, three, she did not pity him, with all this going on. There! the old lady had put out her light! The whole house was dark now with this going on, she repeated, and the words came to her, Fear no more the heat of the sun. She must go back to them. But what an extraordinary night! She felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself. She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the beauty; made her feel the fun. But she must go back. She must assemble. She must find Sally and Peter. And she came in from the little room.”

“Franny has the measles, for one thing. Incidentally, did you hear her last week? She went on at beautiful length about how she used to fly all around the apartment when she was four and no one was home. The new announcer is worse than Grant - if possible, even worse than Sullivan in the old days. He said she surely dreamt that she was able to fly. The baby stood her ground like an angel. She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the light bulbs.”

“Someone was playing the piano and, as she concentrated, Olivia realised she recognised Chopin's 'Grande Polonaise'. She stood up and left the library, following the direction of the music, letting her auditory senses lead her eventually to the doorway of the drawing room. She stood where she was, listening to the exquisite rendition of one of her favourite pieces, closing her eyes as the sound emanated from the piano at the other end of the room. (...) Olivia gasped in astonishment when she saw it was Harry.”