Limitations by E.F. Benson

Tom had spent the latter part of the summer and the earlier autumn at a sculptor's studio in Paris, and arrived at Athens in a decade of summer November days. The fogs and frosts had laid a hand on Paris before he left, and the new heaven and the new earth looked very fair as his ship steamed slowly into the Pireus just before sunrise. The violet crown of mountains round Athens lay in dewy silence waiting for the dawn, and even in the dim half light the air was full of southern colour. He stood on the deck until the sun had shot up above Pentelicus, and was joined by Arthur Wrexham, who had secured a month's extra leave, on a vague plea of debility.

"It's so delicious to be in these classic waters again," said that diplomatist. "England had become quite unbearably foggy. Cook's man will get us a boat."