Read an Excerpt
READ THE FULL EXCERPT
The box was full of sand. It was fine, glassy sand, almost white; it was moist, and had been flattened, then scraped smooth to produce a surface as level and firm as the finest parchment. But the sunlight, falling obliquely with the afternoon, glinted here and there on the edges of individual grains, catching on facets too small for the eye to distinguish. Innumerable facets, one would say--only each made a distinct point of brightness, and the young man looking at them suddenly found himself wondering if he could number them.
It was an old box. The olive-wood frame