"Yes——"
"It isn't a liberty—when we have the proper spirit."
"Isn't it, David?" … With hushed voices and light steps, they passed up and through the sunny rooms. Fresh flowers everywhere, and one bright room with two small white beds.
"The maiden-aunts," Cairns said hoarsely.
At length, he held open for her to enter, the door of the great front room, filled with Northern brightness from a skylight of modern proportions.
"Why, David," she whispered raptly, "it's like a studio! It is a studio!"
And then she saw the scaffoldings, the ladders and panels which do not belong to a painter.
She faced him….
The room was filled with adoration that enchanted the light. The branches of the trees about the lower windows, softly harped the sound of the sea … Vina's hands were pressed strangely to her breast, as she crossed to an open window…. And there she stood, face averted, and not moving her hands, until she felt him near.
* * * * *