BENEATH THE SURFACE Up came the dusk to the doors of the king's palace--a hurry of grey banners flowing into the empty ways where the sun had been.

Upon this high dominion Night could not advance unheralded, and here the Twilight messengered her coming long after the dark lay thick on the lowland and on the toiling water.
St.George, leaning from Amory's window, looked down on the shadows rising in exquisite hesitation, as if they came curling from the lighted censer of Med.

There is no doubt at all, Olivia had said gravely, that the dusk is patterned, if only one could see it--figured in unearthly flowers, in wandering stars, in upper-air sprites, grey-winged, grey-bodied, so that sometimes glimpsing them one fancies them to be little living goblins.

He smiled, remembering her words, and glanced over his shoulder down the long room where the other light was now beginning to creep about, first expressing, then embracing the chamber dusk.

It seemed precisely the moment when something delicate should be caught passing from gloom to radiance, to be thankfully remembered.