The fog is too chilly." Frances Waldeaux did not find the fog chilly.

She had been thinking for thirty years of the day when she should start to Europe--ever since she could think at all.
This was the day.

It was like no other, now that it had come.

The fog, the crowd, the greasy smells of the pier, all familiar enough yesterday, took on a certain remoteness and mystery.

It seemed to her that she was doing something which nobody had ever done before.