`` Did n't he have a copy of his own -- did n't your mother have one ? '' asked Janet . `` Mother had n'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 did n't care for poetry , Aunty says -- Aunty does n'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 home to us . He had sold most of his books before he went , but he gave a few of his favourite ones to Aunty to keep for me . HIS book was n't among them . I do n't suppose I shall ever find a copy , but I should be so delighted if I only could . '' When the Old Lady got home she took from her top bureau drawer an inlaid box of sandalwood . It held a little , slim , limp volume , wrapped in tissue paper -- the Old Lady 's most treasured possession . On the fly-leaf was written , `` To Margaret , with the author 's love . '' The Old Lady turned the yellow leaves with trembling fingers and , through eyes brimming with tears , read the verses , although she had known them all by heart for years . She meant to give the book to Sylvia for a birthday present -- one of the most precious gifts ever given , if the value of gifts is gauged by the measure of self-sacrifice involved . In that little book was immortal love -- old laughter -- old tears -- old beauty which had bloomed like a rose years ago , holding still its sweetness like old rose leaves . She removed the telltale fly-leaf ; and late on the night before Sylvia 's birthday , the Old Lady crept , under cover of the darkness , through byways and across fields , as if bent on some nefarious expedition , to the little Spencervale store where the post-office was kept . She slipped the thin parcel through the slit in the door , and then stole home again , feeling a strange sense of loss and loneliness . It was as if she had given away the last link between herself and her youth . But she did not regret it .
It would give Sylvia pleasure , and that had come XXXXX be the overmastering passion of the Old Lady 's heart .
On among before for from like that through to with