“What does all this mean?” Kit asked. “Do you think I’d take them and—do you want me to—?” He sounded lost. His blue eyes fell on Tessa’s first editions, on Jem’s Stradivarius violin, as though they were signposts and he was trying to find his way in a terribly strange land. Jem said, “We want you to stay, and to know that the choice is entirely yours, and we wanted to show you something. We want you to know there is nothing in this house more precious to us than you.” Kit had stayed.
