I remember closing my eyes an instant, yieldingly, consciously, as before the excess of something beautiful that shone out of the blue of her own. The face that was close to mine was as white as the face against the glass, and out of it presently came a sound, not low nor weak, but as if from much further away, that I drank like a waft of fragrance. The art, being inferior, does not present the forms I spoke of distinguished clearly one from another. He smiled to think how the silvery noise which Mr Casey used to make had deceived him.
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