'I took the liberty to stop, for you seemed so interested that I felt
curious to know what could be worth looking at in those chimneys and
cinder-mounds.'

'I wasn't looking at the factories, but at the hills. The view from here is
considered very fine. Don't you think so, sir?' she asked, feeling afraid
that she had made some mistake.

'Ah, well, now you mention it, perhaps it is. How far away, and yet how
distinct! They look like the gallery of a theatre. We're on the stage, the
footlights run round here, and the valley is the pit; and there are plenty
of pits in it,' he added, laughing. 'But I mustn't speak to you of the
theatre.'

'Oh, I'm sure I don't mind! I'm very fond of the theatre,' said Kate
hastily.

This indirect allusion to last night brought the conversation to a close,
and for some moments they stood looking vacantly at the landscape. Overhead
the sky was a blue dome, and so still was the air that the smoke-clouds
trailed like the wings of gigantic birds slowly balancing themselves. And
waves of white light rolled up the valley as if jealous of the red,
flashing furnaces. An odour of iron and cinders poisoned the air, and after
some moments of contemplation which seemed to draw them closer together,
Mr. Lennox said:

'There is no doubt that the view is very grand, but it is tantalizing to
have those hills before your eyes when you are shut up in a red brick oven.
How fresh and cool they look! What wouldn't you give to be straying about