Almost they seemed to be riding into the sky itself. Sky and earth had the curious phenomenon of being one.
“Everything,” he replied, with an eloquent motion of his hand. “It’s a r-ripping—land! I’m jolly glad I came.”
“I don’t suppose,” said Hilda, “that you have skies like this in England.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s foggy and dark there, I’ve heard,” said Hilda.
He glanced at her, as if slightly surprised.
“Why no, that hardly describes it, you know.”
He was thoughtful a moment, and then said, with a smile, as if glad to reassure her:
“It’s a dashed fine place, all the same. C-carn’t beat it, you know.”
That brought the girl’s chin up. For some reason, she could not have analyzed, it hurt and offended her to hear him praising the land from which he had come.