The familiar towers and spires of Sydney reappeared, silhouetted against the amber rim of night; the hills, robbed of their pearly glamour, huddled beneath a belt of leaden cloud; the harbour waters lay fiat and grey like a sheet of polished metal; light clouds were pacing in from the sea.
They stared across the water, silent and thoughtful, touched for a moment with the glamour of a dream.

The sound of a cornet, prolonged into a wail, reached them from the deck of a Manly steamer.

At intervals the full strength of the band, cheerful and vulgar, was carried by a gust of wind to their ears.
"Oh, I would like to hear some music!" cried Clara.

"Something slow and solemn, a dirge for the dying day." Jonah turned and looked at her curiously, surprised by the gush of emotion in her voice.

He started to speak, and hesitated.