Explore "Where England Sets her Feet" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
With a snore like the grinding on shingle of a boat's nose which has been run ashore at the end of a long smooth journey, Brion opened his eyes from a period of the profoundest repose he had ever enjoyed in his life. All the fever and the weariness were gone from him, though a strange sense of lightness and giddiness had succeeded, so that he lay blinking and yawning, incurious about his situation, and contentedly waiting for it to develop itself as it listed.
There is a self-healing balm in the ‘liquid dew of youth' whose essence is a short memory, for when an evil is forgotten it is over. Yesterday's fret and exhaustion were no more to the boy now than the bed on which his body rested -- a pretext to luxuriate; and he remained as he was until the balance between pleasure and curiosity insensibly inclining the latter's way spoiled the blissful equilibrium, when he sat up, all at once actively interested in his surroundings.