THE WINDOWhad both known at college. She looked at thewindow in which the candle flames burnt brighternow that the panes were black, and looking atthat outside the voices came to her very strangely,as if they were voices at a service in a cathedral,for she did not listen to the words. The suddenbursts of laughter and then one voice (Minta's)speaking alone, reminded her of men and boyscrying out the Latin words of a service in some,Roman Catholic cathedral. She waited. Herhusband spoke. He was repeating something,and she knew it was poetry from the rhythm andthe ring of exaltation, and melancholy in his voice:10ptHB: Line bracketing poem and call for 10 point type. —saraheilefsonCome out and climb the garden path,Luriana Lurilee.The China rose is all abloom and buzzing with the yellow bee.

The words (she was looking at the window)sounded as if they were floating like flowers onwater out there, cut off from them all, as if no onehad said them, but they had come into existenceof themselves.

"And all the lives we ever lived and all the livesto be are full of trees and changing leaves." Shedid not know what they meant, but, like music,the words seemed to be spoken by her own voice,outside her self, saying quite easily and naturallywhat had been in her mind the whole eveningwhile she said different things. She knew, without171
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