Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/102

 up at the moon, his face vividly illumined. He broke out into a snatch of song—

And with a great musical roll of his voice he went swinging off into the darkness again as if his thoughts had lent him wings. He was dreaming of the inspiration of foreign lands—of mighty monuments and sacred sites. What a pity, after all, thought Rowland as he went his own way, that he should n't have a "lick" at them!