“Woman, why are you weeping?”

In these texts I was concerned with three deaths: with the death of God, with the death of Christianity and with the death of socialism. I wrote quite a lot about it in the end. Now all these ideas, ideals and protestations have dissolved like Tom’s Midnight Garden. What comes next is the story of the boy who is drawn into these intangible dreams and his return to the world he can feel.

Tom went slowly down the attic stairs. Then, at the bottom, he hesitated: he turned impulsively and ran up again – two at a time- to where Hatty Bartholomew still stood…

Afterwards, Aunt Gwen tried to describe to her husband that second parting between them. “He ran up to her, and they hugged each other as if they had known each other for years, instead of only having me for the first time this morning. There was something else, too, Alan, although I know you’ll say it sounds even more absurd… Of course, Mrs Bartholomew’s such a shrunken old woman, she’s hardly bigger than Tom, anyway: but, you know, he put his arms around her and her hugged her good-bye as if she were a little girl.”

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