She knew the superior strain of everything about him, and nothing he could now do was required to light the view.

Moreover his being in Rome at all affected her as a complication of the wrong sort--she liked so complications of the right.

Nevertheless, when, on bringing his call to a close, he said he too should be at Saint Peter's and should look out for her and her friends, she was obliged to reply that he must follow his convenience.
In the church, as she strolled over its tesselated acres, he was the first person she encountered.

She had not been one of the superior tourists who are "disappointed" in Saint Peter's and find it smaller than its fame; the first time she passed beneath the huge leathern curtain that strains and bangs at the entrance, the first time she found herself beneath the far-arching dome and saw the light drizzle down through the air thickened with incense and with the reflections of marble and gilt, of mosaic and bronze, her conception of greatness rose and dizzily rose.

After this it never lacked space to soar.