And then suddenly the mists are blown away, glory fills the air, and there is no more doubt, only before us is a splendour making all things clear and lighting us over a deathless sea.

It sounds rather too grand," she added, with a charming little laugh; "but there is something in it somewhere, if only I could express myself.

Oh, look!" As she spoke a heavy storm-cloud rolled over the vanishing rim of the sun.

For a moment the light struggled with the eclipsing cloud, turning its dull edge to the hue of copper, but the cloud was too strong and the light vanished, leaving the sea in darkness.
"Well," he said, "your allegory would have a dismal end if you worked it out.

It is getting as dark as pitch, and there's a good deal in _that_, if only _I_ could express myself." Beatrice dropped poetry, and came down to facts in a way that was very commendable.
"There is a squall coming up, Mr.Bingham," she said; "you must paddle as hard as you can.