"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. The Ragged Edge. “Very funny. John exited quickly from the side of the stage and returned to where his mother and father sat. “I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. ” But after that neither ideas nor phrases had come and she had fallen thinking of the events of the day.
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