He heard their voices no longer.

He had lost them (he fancied), because there had come to him another voice that said: "I love her--I love her." And whensoever that voice comes to a man as it came to Herbert Courtland it drowns all other voices.

He would love her to the end of his life.
Their life together would be the real life for which men and women have come into the world.

He would go to her, and so far from allowing her to sink beneath the waters down to hell, his arms would be around her to bear her up until--well, is it not generally conceded that love is heaven and heaven is love?
He seated himself at a desk and wrote to her an impassioned line.

He would go to her, he said.