"To-morrow it will be mine. In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers.
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