His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. To that, perhaps, a large part of its satisfyingness was due. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. Thames Darrell.
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