That line in *The Remains of the Day* where Stevens realizes he's misread every signal from Miss Kenton for twenty years — God, it still stops me cold every reread. My father gave me his copy when I left for Yale, spine already cracked from his own readings, and I keep it on the shelf above my drafting table where I can see the title when I look up from floor plans. Some regrets don't fade; they just become part of the structure you build around them.