"When your three soldiers died," she said, "it made me believe something that I hadn't believed before—about souls marching toward a great—light."
Geoffrey found himself confiding in her. "I don't know whether you will understand. But ever since I wrote that book I have felt that I must live up to it. That I must be worthy of the thing I had written."
Richard, dancing in the music room with Anne, found himself saying, "How different it all is."
"From Bower's?"
"Yes."
"Do you like it?"
"Sometimes. And then sometimes it all seems so big—and useless."
The music stopped, and they made their way back to the little drawing-room.
"Won't you sit here and talk to me?" Richard said. "Somehow we never seem to find time to talk."
She smiled. "There is always so much to do."