That veiled brightness, as they leaned on the rail, showed her brown hair fluttering dimly, her face pale, half real, half magical, her eyes dark and undefined pools of mystery.

It was late; they had been silent for a long time; and Rudolph felt that something beyond the territory of words remained to be said, and that the one brilliant epoch of his life now drew madly to a close.
"What do you think of it all ?" the woman asked suddenly, gravely, as though they had been isolated together in the deep spaces of the same thought.
"I do not yet--Of what ?" rejoined Rudolph, at a loss.
"Of all this." She waved an eloquent little gesture toward the azure-lighted gulf.
"Oh," he said.

"Of the world ?" "Yes," she answered slowly.

"The world.

Life." Her tone, subdued and musical, conveyed in the mere words their full enigma and full meaning.
"All this that we see." "Who can tell ?" He took her seriously, and ransacked all his store of second-hand philosophy for a worthy answer,--a musty store, dead and pedantic, after the thrilling spirit of her words.