It was a thing which moved him to-day exactly as it had moved him when he was too young to explain its meaning and appeal.

It was the lovely faith and yearning acceptance of him as a being whose perfection could not be questioned.

There was in it no conscious beguiling flattery or appraisement--it was pure acceptance and sweet waiting for what he had to give.

He sometimes found himself trembling with his sense of its simple unearthliness.
Few indeed were the people who at this time were wholly normal.

The whole world seemed a great musical instrument, overstrung and giving out previously unknown harmonies and inharmonies.