noon
It was over flat lands like this , stretching out to drink the sun , that the larks sang -- and one 's heart sang there , too . Thea was glad that this was her country , even if one did not learn to speak elegantly there . It was , somehow , an honest country , and there was a new song in that blue air which had never been sung in the world before . It was hard to tell about it , for it had nothing to do with words ; it was like the light of the desert at noon , or the smell of the sagebrush after rain ; intangible but powerful . She had the sense of going back to a friendly soil , whose friendship was somehow going to strengthen her ; a naive , generous country that gave one its joyous force , its large-hearted , childlike power to love , just as it gave one its coarse , brilliant flowers . As she drew in that glorious air Thea 's mind went back to Ray Kennedy . He , too , had that feeling of empire ; as if all the Southwest really belonged to him because he had knocked about over it so much , and knew it , as he said , `` like the blisters on his own hands . ''