'But——' Miss Travers was puzzled by the Bride's expression; she would have given anything not to refuse, yet what could she do? 'But—it isn't the sort of thing one can sit down and sing—really it isn't. It wants a chorus, and it is very long and elaborate.'
'Yes?' Gladys seemed strangely disappointed. 'But there was one part—the part I liked—where the chorus didn't come in, I am sure. It was sung by a boy. You could do it so much better! It was about the wings of a dove, and the wilderness. You know, I come from the wilderness myself'—the Bride smiled faintly—'and I thought I'd never heard anything half so lovely before; though of course I've heard very little.'
'No matter how little you have heard, you will never hear anything much more beautiful than that,' said Miss Travers, with sympathetic enthusiasm.
'Since I cannot hear it now, however, there is an end of it.'
Gladys sighed, but her eyes pleaded still;
