She communed a while, then unrolled a second manuscript.

"To C.B.," it read.

To Carlton Brown, she knew, to her father, a love-poem from her mother.

Saxon pondered the opening lines: "I have stolen away from the crowd in the groves, Where the nude statues stand, and the leaves point and shiver At ivy-crowned Bacchus, the Queen of the Loves, Pandora and Psyche, struck voiceless forever." This, too, was beyond her.

But she breathed the beauty of it.