She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. There was only one sound—the fall of the sea upon the main beach, and even that said: "Hush! Hush! Hus-s-sh!" Not a leaf stirred, not a shadow moved. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject.
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