"is the perspective; it isn't an easy thing to put ships up in the sky."

"Of course," explained Irene, "it was a kind of hazy day."

"But I think Miss Lamont deserves credit for keeping the haze out of it."
King was critically examining it, turning his head from side to side. "I
like it; but I tell you what I think it lacks: it lacks atmosphere. Why
don't you cut a hole in it, Miss Lamont, and let the air in?"

"Mr. King," replied Miss Lamont, quite seriously, "you are a real friend,
I can only repay you by taking you to church this morning."

"You didn't make much that time, King," said Forbes, as he lounged out of
the room.

After church King accepted a seat in the Benson carriage for a drive on
the Ocean Road. He who takes this drive for the first time is enchanted
with the scene, and it has so much variety, deliciousness in curve and
winding, such graciousness in the union of sea and shore, such charm of
color, that increased acquaintance only makes one more in love with it. A
good part of its attraction lies in the fickleness of its aspect. Its
serene and soft appearance might pall if it were not now and then, and
often suddenly, and with little warning, transformed into a wild coast,
swept by a tearing wind, enveloped in a thick fog, roaring with the noise
of the angry sea slapping the rocks and breaking in foam on the fragments
its rage has cast down. This elementary mystery and terror is always
present, with one familiar with the coast, to qualify the gentleness of
its lovelier aspects. It has all moods. Perhaps the most exhilarating
is that on a brilliant day, when shore and sea sparkle in the sun, and
the waves leap high above the cliffs, and fall in diamond showers.