Come here for a moment, Borrowdean.

I want to show you something." The two men stood side by side upon the grassy bank, Mannering broad-shouldered and vigorous, his clean, hard-cut features tanned with wind and sun, his eyes bright and vigorous with health; Leslie Borrowdean, once his greatest friend, a man of almost similar physique, but with the bent frame and listless pallor of a dweller in the crowded places of life.

Without enthusiasm his tired eyes followed the sweep of Mannering's arm.
"You see those yellow sandhills beyond the marshes there?
Behind them is the sea.

Do you catch that breath of wind?
Take off your hat, man, and get it into your lungs.

It comes from the North Sea, salt and fresh and sweet.