The birds in the orchards, the insects in the grass, the clouds overhead seemed somehow involved in the poetry and joy of that song.

The wild heart of the young trailer became like that of a child, made sweet and tender by the sovereign power of a voice.
He did not move till the clear melody sank into the harmony of the organ, then, with bent head and limbs unwontedly infirm, he entered the lovely little audience room.

He stumbled into the first seat in the corner, his eyes piercing the colored dusk which lay between him and the singer.

It was Mary, and it seemed to him that she had become a princess, sitting upon a throne.

Accustomed to see only the slatternly women of the cow towns, or the thin, hard-worked, and poorly-dressed wives and daughters of the ranchers, he humbled himself before the beauty and dignity and refinement of this young singer.
She was a mature woman, full-bosomed, grave of feature, introspective of glance.