White and round and smooth and perfect was the column of her throat, and it trembled with the stir of her voice.
"The most fool idea I ever heard.

Sounds like something in a dream--a nightmare.

What d'you want to do, Anthony, make yourself famous?
You will be, all right; they'll put up your tombstone by a public subscription." He would not answer, sure of himself; waiting, tingling with enjoyment.
As he expected, she said: "Go on; is the other reason as good as that one ?" Making his expression grim, he leaned suddenly forward, and though the width of the room separated them, she drew back a little, as though the shadow of his coming cast a forewarning shade across her.

He heard her breath catch, and as if some impalpable and joyous spirit rushed to meet and mingle with his, something from her, a spirit as warm as the fire, as faintly, keenly sweet as an air from a night-dark, unseen garden blowing in his face.
"The other reason is you, Sally Fortune.

You can't go with me as far as I must go; and I can't leave you behind." Ah, there it was! He had fumbled at the keys of the organ in the dark; he had spread his fingers amply and pressed down; behold, back from the cathedral lofts echoed a rising music of surpassing beauty.