He could not see the Rider's face.
A great exultation inflamed him.
At that instant he was stripped bare. His history, the people whom he knew, the things that he had done, they were all as though they had never been.
His soul was, for that great moment, naked and alone before God.
“The whole duty of Art is listening for the voice of God....”
A sound, as though it came to him from another world, broke into the room.
There were voices and steps on the stairs.
“Ah, they are back from their party,” Henry Galleon said, trotting happily to the door. “Come up and have a chat with my wife, Westcott, before going to bed.”