tirade of a fanatical man. Did she realise, to begin with, what a very
small part of the world the land was? How peaceful, how beautiful, how
benignant in comparison the sea? The deep waters could sustain Europe
unaided if every earthly animal died of the plague to-morrow. Mr. Grice
recalled dreadful sights which he had seen in the richest city of the
world--men and women standing in line hour after hour to receive a mug
of greasy soup. "And I thought of the good flesh down here waiting
and asking to be caught. I'm not exactly a Protestant, and I'm not
a Catholic, but I could almost pray for the days of popery to come
again--because of the fasts."

As he talked he kept opening drawers and moving little glass jars. Here
were the treasures which the great ocean had bestowed upon him--pale
fish in greenish liquids, blobs of jelly with streaming tresses, fish
with lights in their heads, they lived so deep.

"They have swum about among bones," Clarissa sighed.

"You're thinking of Shakespeare," said Mr. Grice, and taking down a copy
from a shelf well lined with books, recited in an emphatic nasal voice:

"Full fathom five thy father lies,

"A grand fellow, Shakespeare," he said, replacing the volume.

Clarissa was so glad to hear him say so.

"Which is your favourite play? I wonder if it's the same as mine?"

"_Henry the Fifth_," said Mr. Grice.