She played it straight through, then, with a charm and skill that brought Arkwright's feet to a pause before it was half finished.
"By George, that's great!" he breathed, when the last tone had quivered into silence.
"Yes, isn't it--beautiful ?" she murmured.
The room was very quiet, and in semi-darkness.

The last rays of a late June sunset had been filling the room with golden light, but it was gone now.

Even at the piano by the window, Alice had barely been able to see clearly enough to read the notes of her nocturne.
To Arkwright the air still trembled with the exquisite melody that had but just left her fingers.

A quick fire came to his eyes.

He forgot everything but that it was Alice there in the half-light by the window--Alice, whom he loved.