had a strong, sweet soprano voice; the man, a baritone of velvety quality.
They first sang the popular music of the time, the strains of lolanthe and the Sorcerer. Then, as the day waned and the sea and sky grew rosy and golden with the sunset colors, they sang tender Italian folk songs.
Saltonstall stood leaning against the mast, looking at Gladys as she stood facing him, her figure in a pose of perfect grace, her head thrown back a little, her white hands touching the strings of her instrument. Her face was lit up with the warm hues of the sunset clouds; behind her was a background of dark land and gray sky.
As the boat glided smoothly along the shores of the island, the mighty trees of Redwood loomed up, looking twice their size in the uncertain light. Over the tops of the proud trees crept the big yellow moon slowly, flooding the heavens with her light, shaming the garish fires of the western sky.
