But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. I overheard what Mr. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. " "Enough," returned Jackson, extending his hand; "and if I've expressed myself warmly, I'm sorry for it likewise. While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. ’ ‘I am a very English man,’ Gerald said.
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