"Being on this ship seems to make it so much more vivid--what it really means to be English.
One thinks of all we've done, and our navies, and the people in India and Africa, and how we've gone on century after century, sending out boys from little country villages--and of men like you, Dick, and it makes one feel as if one couldn't bear _not_ to be English! Think of the light burning over the House, Dick! When I stood on deck just now I seemed to see it.

It's what one means by London." "It's the continuity," said Richard sententiously.

A vision of English history, King following King, Prime Minister Prime Minister, and Law Law had come over him while his wife spoke.

He ran his mind along the line of conservative policy, which went steadily from Lord Salisbury to Alfred, and gradually enclosed, as though it were a lasso that opened and caught things, enormous chunks of the habitable globe.
"It's taken a long time, but we've pretty nearly done it," he said; "it remains to consolidate." "And these people don't see it!" Clarissa exclaimed.
"It takes all sorts to make a world," said her husband.

"There would never be a government if there weren't an opposition." "Dick, you're better than I am," said Clarissa.