He did not exactly know what he wanted.

The darkness would not lift, and Maisie's unopened letters felt worn and old from much handling.

He could never read them for himself as long as life endured; but Maisie might have sent him some fresh ones to play with.

The Nilghai entered with a gift,--a piece of red modelling-wax.

He fancied that Dick might find interest in using his hands.