He had a great many views about the Romanish rite of confession which did not at all square with this statement of the case, but this did not seem a specially fit time for bringing them forth.

There was indeed a sense of languid repletion in his mind, as if it had been overfed and wanted to lie down for awhile.
He contented himself with nodding again, and murmuring reflectively, "Yes, it is all strangely different." His tone was an invitation to silence; and the doctor turned his attention to the cigar, studying its ash for a minute with an air of deep meditation, and then solemnly blowing out a slow series of smoke-rings.

Theron watched him with an indolent, placid eye, wondering lazily if it was, after all, so very pleasant to smoke.
There fell upon this silence--with a softness so delicate that it came almost like a progression in the hush--the sound of sweet music.

For a little, strain and source were alike indefinite--an impalpable setting to harmony of the mellowed light, the perfumed opalescence of the air, the luxury and charm of the room.

Then it rose as by a sweeping curve of beauty, into a firm, calm, severe melody, delicious to the ear, but as cold in the mind's vision as moonlit sculpture.