"I think you would be contented with very little," said Randolph gravely. "I wish I could be. Hand your secret on to me. I can't be content with my circumstances."
"Ah," said Sidney, drawing a long breath, "content or discontent is a matter of long or short sight, isn't it? I have learnt that it is."
Randolph began to think it out.
"How?" he questioned. "Even a sandbank in a deluge doesn't affect your spirits."
"Well, it might be worse," said Sidney; "and I'm not going to have you think me other than I am. A fit of discontent took me out this afternoon and abstracted me from the present. When I stuck, I readjusted my focus, and then felt better."
"Still I don't understand."
"'For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.'"
The words came softly but very firmly from Sidney's lips.
"But you don't apply that to the sandbank?"
Sidney's laugh rippled out.