Swiftly came a change--like the sudden smoothing out of the rushing waves of a hill-locked, wind-lashed lake.
The face was again Ruth's face--and Ruth's alone; the eyes were Ruth's eyes--supplicating, adjuring.
"Ruth!" Ventnor cried.

"While you can hear--am I not right ?" She nodded vigorously, sternly; she was lost, hidden once more.
"You see." He turned to us grimly.
A shattering shaft of light flashed upon the veils; almost pierced them.
An avalanche of sound passed high above us.

Yet now I noted that where we stood the clamor was lessened, muffled.

Of course, it came to me, it was the veils.
I wondered why--for whatever the quality of the radiant mists, their purpose certainly had to do with concentration of the magnetic flux.

The deadening of the noise must be accidental, could have nothing to do with their actual use; for sound is an air vibration solely.