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You poor fog-begirt Dane Kempton, could you but have lounged with me on the window couch, an hour past, and watched the light pass out of the day through the Golden Gate and the night creep over the Berkeley Hills and down out of the east! Why should you linger on there in London town! We grow away from each other, it seems you with your wonder-singing, I with my joyful science.
"Ah, you precious daughter of the old school," cried the vehement Josie, "it were well that you went to the Celestial ere you started for Halifax, in order that you might, to a certain extent, have re-acquired that amount of red tapeism which you must have almost forgotten amid the more liberally-inclined citizens of our fog-begirt city." "Quite an orator, Josie," ventured Marguerite.
She could not quite drown an old, Puritan voice, speaking with the authority of tradition, which bade her hold to her vows. Yes, I made it easy for her. Harrow my soul with theories of selection and survival if you dare! In those days the spires of the temple were golden, the shrine white. The door was seen from every point in the fog-begirt world. We who worshipped knew not of doubt.
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