It's not memory with him; it's something else." "But don't you ever make up a story of your own ?" Honoria insisted.
Now you might talk with Mrs.Raymond for ten minutes, perhaps, and think her a simpleton; and then suddenly a cloud (as it were) parted, and you found yourself gazing into depths of clear and beautiful wisdom.
She turned on Honoria with a shy, adorable smile: "Why, of course I do--about Taffy.

Come in and let me show you his room and his books." An hour later, when Taffy returned, he found Honoria seated at the table and his mother pouring tea.

They said nothing about their visit to his room; and though they had handled every one of his treasures, he never discovered it.

But he did notice--or rather, he felt--that the two understood each other.

They did; and it was an understanding he would never be able to share, though he lived to be a hundred.
Mr.Raymond came out from his study and drank his tea in silence.
Honoria observed that he blinked a good deal.