“Quite blue—from the top of that hill.”
He pointed above the tiers of grey-tiled roofs to a pleasant prospect of trees. “The blue is there, but you must climb for it. You can’t expect the most glorious panorama in the world to present itself to you without some effort on your part.”
“What’s the name of that hill?” she asked aimlessly.
“I don’t know. There’s a charming inn there, I suspect.”
“You suspect? Don’t you know?”
“No.”
“Haven’t you been there yourself?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know about the ‘glorious panorama’?”
“You get a similar sensation from the hill over there,” he flourished a hand; “a much smaller hill. So I drew the proper inference.”