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Never did that infinite diapason which we call the roar of London sound so sweet, never did those long, lighted, busy streets seem so habitable, as on that night when I returned from my casual inspection of Dawes' farm. The memory of Dawes' farm taught me that if I was to live in the country some charm of outlook was indispensable to my content.

Here was Youth, clean and wholesome, unsullied the thing of glory and wonder for men to conjure with..... after it has been lost to them and they have turned middle-aged. And so well did we conjure, that Romance came and for an hour led us far from the man-city and its snarling roar.

There it carried destruction far and wide, sweeping away crops, cattle, farm buildings, bridges, and everything that came in its way. The loss of life also was often considerable, for there was no warning other than the roar of the water as it burst into the valley.

He had always been prepared for, waited upon either with flattering attentions or ceremonial service, but the quiet pretty things mothers and sisters and wives did had not been part of his life and he had always noticed and liked them and sometimes wondered that most men received them with a casual air. This small thing alone caused the roar he had left behind to recede still farther.

The thing was inconceivable. The roar of the river rose weird and mournful and incessant, with few breaks, and these were marked by strange ripping and splashing sounds made as the bulges of water broke on the surface. Twenty feet out the boat floated, turning a little as it drifted. It seemed loath to leave. It held on the shore eddy. Hungrily, spitefully the little, heavy waves lapped it.

Close behind her words I remember this singular thing, however that an atmosphere as of the Inquisition seemed to rise and stir about the room, beating awful wings of black above my head. Abruptly, then, a moment's common sense returned to me. I faced her. "And the Noise?" I said aloud, more firmly, "the roar of the closing doors? We have all heard that! Is that subjective too?"

She looked at the belching smoke and the rocketing flames and listened to the roar of it all, fascinated. "How terrible," she cried, "and how beautiful." "The Inferno!" said Stane. "I've seen it before." "And you wanted me to leave you to that?" she cried. "Pardon me, no! I did not want you to be caught in it, that is all! Listen!"

There was again silence, with the muffled roar of the breakers farther away than ever, and as the boat rocked away slowly with the same gentle motion, the wet, cold, and misery were forgotten by one after another, the darkness helping, the occupants of the little craft dropped off to sleep, one of the last being Mark.

Cecil pressed his knees closer and closer, and worked the gallant hero for the test; the surging roar of the throng, though so close, was dull on his ear; he heard nothing, knew nothing, saw nothing but that lean chestnut head beside him, the dull thud on the turf of the flying gallop, and the black wall that reared in his face.

He had hardly covered half the distance to the outer air when there came another quaking, and more rocks fell, one hitting him on the arm. The torch was knocked from his hand and he tripped and fell. Then came a crash and a roar, and to Dave it seemed as if the end of the world had come. He was more than half-stunned, and he fell against a wall of rocks, wondering what would happen next.