Never until then had it occurred to him.

Never until then, in all his thoughts of Hilma, had that great word passed his lips.
It was a Memnonian cry, the greeting of the hard, harsh image of man, rough-hewn, flinty, granitic, uttering a note of joy, acclaiming the new risen sun.
By now it was almost day.

The east glowed opalescent.

All about him Annixter saw the land inundated with light.

But there was a change.
Overnight something had occurred.