"And, speaking of the soul," the architect went on, "Observe these great clusters of lights that illuminate this court and the approach on the other side of the tower. They look like stars, don't they? And the intention evidently is to use them for their star-like character. But there is history behind them. They are like the monstrance used in the Catholic Church, to hold the sacred host, the wafer that is accepted by the faithful as the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Since the sixteenth century it has been used by the church, a beautiful emblem, made of gold and designed to suggest the prayer of the sun, the Spirit of God in radiance. Its use here helps to give the court its ecclesiastical character." As we made our way toward the Marina we noted how much the court gained by its general freedom from color. In the colonnade, to be sure, Guerin had been particularly successful with the shade of blue. But he would have done better if he had omitted the color, in fact all color, from the niches in the tower. Viewed from the Marina, the entrance to the court proved to be a vision of loveliness. There was only one intrusive note to jar the harmony, the coarse sea figure by Sherry Fry, presumably Neptune's, Daughter, standing in the center, with a great fish at her feet, plainly out of place here, in spite of the court's celebration of the sea as the source of human life. XVI The Brangwyns We lingered in the colonnade to view the eight mural decorations by Frank Brangwyn, of London. In front of The Bowmen we found a friend, a gifted woman painter, fairly bursting with enthusiasm. "What delights me in Brangwyn," she said, "is his artistic courage. He dares to put down just what he feels. This sturdy figure in the foreground, for example, peering through the trees, how many other painters would have allowed him to turn his back on the spectator? And yet how interesting he is and how alive." "Some of those heads strike me as curious," I remarked. "That fellow closest to the center, just about to let his arrow fly, seems to have no head to speak of." "Sometimes he's careless with his drawing. And yet he can draw magnificently, too. He evidently had a purpose in making so many of the heads in these murals almost deformed. He wanted to suggest that these types were in no way mental. They were wholly physical. Notice the care he has lavished on their muscular bodies, their great shoulders and legs." "It doesn't seem like English work, does it?" said the architect. "No, there's something almost Oriental about it both in the feeling and the coloring. And there's the Pagan love of the elemental life."