gray phrase--a phrase it had made for itself to accompany the score of
gray whiter--and flitted on billowy wings to a juniper at the corner
of the house, its turret against the long javelins of the North.

Amid the stillness of Nature outside and the house-silence of a love
guarding him within, the man worked on.

A little clock ticked independently on the old-fashioned Parian marble
mantelpiece. Prints were propped against its sides and face,
illustrating the use of trees about ancient tombs and temples. Out of
this photographic grove of dead things the uncaring clock threw out
upon the air a living three--the fateful three that had been measured
for each tomb and temple in its own land and time.

A knock, regretful but positive, was heard, and the door opening into
the hall was quietly pushed open. A glow lit up the student's face
though he did not stop writing; and his voice, while it gave a
welcome, unconsciously expressed regret at being disturbed:

"Come in."

"I am in!"

He lifted his heavy figure with instant courtesy--rather obsolete
now--and bowing to one side, sat down again.

"So I see," he said, dipping his pen into his ink.

"Since you did not turn around, you would better have said 'So I
hear.' It is three o'clock."