At her back was the long casement window, and the last gleams of the wintry sun caught her hair.

To the man's visionary fancy they formed an aureole.
"Don't go, Zora." She was silent for a long, long time, as if held by the spell of the man's pleading.

Her face softened adorably and a tenderness came into the eyes which he could not see.

A mysterious power seemed to be lifting her towards him.

It was a new sensation, pleasurable, like floating down a stream with the water murmuring in her ears.