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I lay there, at two o’clock on the morning of January 4th. I had just finished another reading of the Tenth Vision and had tossed my book into tpantone色卡8565[[b]pantone色卡8565/b]he lap of an armchair opposite. Fire and lamp were burning brightly. The night outside was still and soundless, and repeating to myself a scrap here and there from the three letters he wrote on his way — the last of them, received a full three weeks after the telegram wh, retracing in thought the circumstances of Harry’s last parting from me,air here at Sevenhays,