33/34 She had no sensations to speak of; but thought came to her--confused, overwhelming thought--an agony of ideas. Ah, the shame of it! And that hidden hope of hers became a terror. Mrs.Nevill Tyson's soul was struggling with its immortality. The hot flare of summer was in the streets and in the room; the old life was surging everywhere around her; above the brutal roar and gust of it, blown from airy squares, flung back from throbbing thoroughfares, she caught responsive voices, rhythmic, inarticulate murmurs, ripples of the resonant joy of the world. |