“Hour by hour, the outside world receded further into the realm of things forgotten and unregretted while time itself seemed to hang motionless in the frosty air; and the Marquis, strangely content to let it be so, spoke no more of departure.
Indeed for him as much as for Rosalind, the days of effortless conversation and small, shared pleasures were of the stuff that fills the golden treasure house of memory…”