By and by, still without rising, we were quit of the fog, and the moon swept the hollow beneath us, rescuing solitary scraps and sheets of water and letting them slip again like imprehensible ghosts. Small fiery eyes opened and shut on us; cressets of flame on factory chimneys, more and more frequent. I studied the compass. Our course lay south-by-west. But our whereabouts?
The closer he drew in affection, the farther this son of his receded, receded in the very act of acknowledging his sonship with a gesture, smilingly imprehensible; with eyes which allured the yearning he baffled, and tied it to the hopeless chase. Mr. Frank, who worshipped flowers, was perhaps the most ineffective gardener in England.