Explore "The Master of the Mill" by Frederick Philip Grove on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Reliving a past life is a different thing from merely reflecting upon it. So, when, a few days later, things began to crystallize in his mind, the senator rose again from his arm-chair to go to the window and to stare at the mill; his deeply-cut features had been working for some time, even during dinner, which was taken late in this house, with three maids, two footmen, and a butler ministering to the needs of the three members of the household. For no reason whatever the old man had led the way to the smallest of the four drawing-rooms -- the 'blue room' -- where they had then been sitting for an hour.
As he rose, his eyes had a faraway look in them, as if, mentally, he were in another world -- as indeed he was. He was in the world of 1888 when he, though in his thirties, had still been held down by his father in a quite subordinate position in the old, wooden mill.