At this moment, it was tingling through him, exultant, and live as quicksilver, whispering, "In July you will be in England." Already he dreaded the long, empty days at sea, the monotonous Irish coast, the sluggish passage up the Mersey, the flash of the boat train through the summer country.

He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the feeling of rapid motion and to swift, terrifying thoughts.

He was sitting so, his face shaded by his hand, when the Boston lawyer saw him from the siding at White River Junction.
When at last Alexander roused himself, the afternoon had waned to sunset.

The train was passing through a gray country and the sky overhead was flushed with a wide flood of clear color.

There was a rose-colored light over the gray rocks and hills and meadows.