A hauntingly lovely book, very remote from today's storm and stress and very much ""Robert Nathan"". It is evanescent fantasy, which would evaporate under too close scrutiny, but Nathan has proved conclusively that he can handle gossamer and make it live. Fearlessly he has experimented with Time (Priestley's favorite problem today), and -- through the medium of the love story of a painter and the child who grew to maturity in brief compass of actual time, he has given the reader a sense of Time being in the mind of the beholder. There is no attempt to make a fantasy of a parable, as in One More Spring. In a sense, the very unimportance of the episode in the world pattern is part of its subtle charm.