Even the high and heavy crest of Mount Tamalpais was dimly visible.
"It is the last of the storms, I fancy.

Spring is overdue," said Price, who, however, was covertly watching his wife's face.

Her color had faded a little, her lids drooped over eyes that stared out at the still turbulent waters.
"I love these San Francisco storms," she said abruptly.

"I am so glad we have these few wild months.

But Mrs.Thornton has worried and so have we.
Her fete at San Mateo comes off on the fourteenth, the first entertainment she has given since her return, and it would be ghastly if it rained.