“How lovely it was,” she went on, “and how marvelously peaceful!” The voice, it seemed to Will Farnaby, had become more musical and in some strange way more remote. Perhaps that was why he no longer resented its intrusion. “Such an extraordinary sense of peace. Shanti, shanti, shanti. The peace that passes understanding.” The voice was almost chanting now—chanting, it seemed, out of some other world.
