She goes to put the water on, and comes back when she notices Jean isn't with her, having lost them somewhere around the bookshelf. Yet, when she returns, she sees them staring at the frames, at their art on the wall.

"I still have the others. Just don't have a house big enough to hang them all up in."

They had been a gift, freely given. They are still. They feel better to look at than pictures of places she'll never go and people she'll never meet.