He was quite out of himself, and I noticed the unconscious movement of his lips as he shaped word for word as fast as she uttered them.

He interrupted her when she gave the lines: "And her eyes should be my light while the sun went out behind me, And the viols in her voice be the last sound in my ear." "There are viols in your voice," he said bluntly, and his eyes flashed their golden light.
I could have shouted with joy at her control.

She finished the concluding stanza without faltering and then slowly guided the conversation into less perilous channels.

And all the while I sat in a half-daze, the drunken riot of the steerage breaking through the bulkhead, the man I feared and the woman I loved talking on and on.

The table was not cleared.