"And pausing there she looked out to meet that stroke of the Lighthouse, the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was her stroke, for watching them in this mood always at this hour one could not help attaching oneself to one thing especially of the things one saw ; and this thing, the long steady stroke, was her stroke."
(p. 73)
"When darkness fell, the stroke of the Lighthouse, which had lait itself with such authority upon the carpet in the darkness, tracing its pattern, came now in the softer light of spring mixed with moonlight gliding gently as if it laid its caress and lingered stealthily and looked and came lovingly again."
(p. 151)
"He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain ; among scents, sounds ; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet ; and lights passing, and brooms tapping ; and the wash and hush of the sea, how a man had marched up and down and stopped dead, upright, over them."
(p. 192)
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