emanated the light. The room was bare of nearly everything except books, which had subjugated all its space. Here and there little spots of territory had been reconquered. An elderly, bald man, with a superlatively calm, remote eye, stood by a table with a book in his hand, his finger still marking a page! His dress was sombre and appertained to a religious order. His eye denoted an acquaintance with the Perspective.
“Father Rogan,” said Norah, “this is HE.”
“The two of ye,” said Father Rogan, “want to get married?”
They did not deny it. He married them. The ceremony was quickly done. One who could have witnessed it and felt its scope might have trembled at the terrible inadequacy of it to rise to the dignity of its endless chain of results. Afterward, the priest spoke briefly, as if by rote, of certain other civil and legal
