They have been put on at a later time, by a process of which there are very few examples, and none so important as this, which is really quite unique--so that, though the whole thing is a little baroque, its value as a specimen is, I believe, almost inestimable." So the high voice quavered, aiming truly at effects far over the heads of gaping neighbours; so the speaker, piling it up, sticking at nothing, as less interested judges might have said, seemed to justify the faith with which she was honoured.

Maggie meanwhile, at the window, knew the strangest thing to be happening: she had turned suddenly to crying, or was at least on the point of it--the lighted square before her all blurred and dim.

The high voice went on; its quaver was doubtless for conscious ears only, but there were verily thirty seconds during which it sounded, for our young woman, like the shriek of a soul in pain.
Kept up a minute longer it would break and collapse--so that Maggie felt herself, the next thing, turn with a start to her father.

"Can't she be stopped?
Hasn't she done it ENOUGH ?"--some such question as that she let herself ask him to suppose in her.

Then it was that, across half the gallery--for he had not moved from where she had first seen him--he struck her as confessing, with strange tears in his own eyes, to sharp identity of emotion.