Mrs.
Barter had begun to play; the Rector, in a white surplice, was coming in.

Mr.Pendyce, with his back turned, continued to find the Lessons.
The service began.
Through a plain glass window high up in the right-hand aisle the sun shot a gleam athwart the Pendyces' pew.

It found its last resting-place on Mrs.Barter's face, showing her soft crumpled cheeks painfully flushed, the lines on her forehead, and those shining eyes, eager and anxious, travelling ever from her husband to her music and back again.
At the least fold or frown on his face the music seemed to quiver, as to some spasm in the player's soul.

In the Pendyces' pew the two girls sang loudly and with a certain sweetness.

Mr.Pendyce, too, sang, and once or twice he looked in surprise at his brother, as though he were not making a creditable noise.
Mrs.Pendyce did not sing, but her lips moved, and her eyes followed the millions of little dust atoms dancing in the long slanting sunbeam.
Its gold path canted slowly from her, then, as by magic, vanished.