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 birds, vague hallos, the stamping and champing of stabled horses. The chimes rang four, then five, then six. The light of the newly risen sun was streaming pale yet brilliant on the old courtyard. Above the chimney-pots the white church spires gleamed against the hazy blue of the July morning. St. Anne's colossal statue, doubly gilded by its own precious leaf and the sun's contribution, gleamed and glittered. Through the opened window, a shaft of light boiled with tiny motes of gold.

Sonia turned for the thousandth time on her narrow bed.

"Are you asleep, Victoria?" she murmured.

Her friend shifted her position, threw a rounded arm over her tumbled hair, and sighed. "No, I'm not—are you?"

"No."

"I can't shake off the impression. That poor, poor woman!"

"Nor I," and Sonia half-raised herself. "Have you ever read Maeterlinck's play, 'The Intruder?' Well, I feel like the blind man, who 62