Far away, on peaks half hidden, snow still lay--a whiteness so ethereal that the gazer caught his breath.
And with it all there was the scent of something--something so fresh, so penetrating, so infinitely sweet--what could it be?
"Ambrosia!" said Benis Spence, unconscious that he spoke aloud.
"Balm of Gilead," said a practical voice beside him.

"It smells like that in the bud, you know." "Does it ?" The professor's tone was dreamy.

"Honey and wine--that's what it's like--honey and wine in the wilderness! You didn't tell me it would be like this," he added, turning abruptly to his companion of the night before.
"How could I tell what it would be like--to you ?" asked the girl.

"It's different for everyone.

I've known people stand here and think of nothing but their breakfast." At the word "breakfast" (which had temporarily slipped from his vocabulary) the famished professor wheeled so quickly that his knee twisted.