Chapter 3 - (VERSO)

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little book of his verse. I haven’t a scrap of his writings. If I had it would seem as if I possessed something of him – of his heart, his soul, his inner life. He would be something more than a mere name to me.”

“Didn’t he have a copy of his own – didn’t your mother have one?” asked Janet.

“Mother hadn’t. She died when I was born, you know, but Aunty says there was no copy of father’s poems among mother’s books. Mother didn’t care for poetry, Aunty says – Aunty doesn’t either. Father went to Europe after mother died, and he died there the next year. Nothing that he had with him was ever sent