Still it was always there; and now, turning his ear to the window, he laid down knife and fork to listen.
"I have also noticed it," said Lorraine, answering his unasked question.
"Do you hear it now?"
"Yes—more distinctly now."
A few moments later Jack leaned back in his chair and listened again.
"Yes," said Lorraine, "it seems to come nearer. What is it?"
"It comes from the southeast. I don't know," he answered.
They rose and walked to the window. She was so near that he breathed the subtle fragrance of her hair, the fresh sweetness of her white gown, that rustled beside him.
"Hark!" whispered Lorraine; "I can almost hear voices in the breezes—the murmur of voices, as if millions of tiny people were calling us from the ends and outer edges of the earth."
"There is a throbbing, too. Do you notice it?"