There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. " "Rather behind me;" and he spoke no more that morning.
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