I'd give anything for a sea mist." Rachel, too, had been thinking of the English country: the flat land rolling away to the sea, and the woods and the long straight roads, where one can walk for miles without seeing any one, and the great church towers and the curious houses clustered in the valleys, and the birds, and the dusk, and the rain falling against the windows.
"But London, London's the place," Terence continued.

They looked together at the carpet, as though London itself were to be seen there lying on the floor, with all its spires and pinnacles pricking through the smoke.
"On the whole, what I should like best at this moment," Terence pondered, "would be to find myself walking down Kingsway, by those big placards, you know, and turning into the Strand.

Perhaps I might go and look over Waterloo Bridge for a moment.

Then I'd go along the Strand past the shops with all the new books in them, and through the little archway into the Temple.

I always like the quiet after the uproar.