'There may be a good deal in what you say, Osborne. You know most of my life I was utterly careless of all religious matters. When I came right, I came right all at once; and you will too in the same way. Suddenly I felt a great surprise, as if I had lived all my life on the sea-shore, but had kept my face always towards the land, and believed there was nothing but land, until suddenly I turned round and saw the ocean. I am not a religious man like you, and, instead of being terribly overawed, I felt inclined to laugh out loud at my old foolish self and my old foolish thoughts. There was the sea as sure as the land had been.' 'That is a very striking way of illustrating it,' said Osborne sadly. 'If I am to adopt it, I feel as though I had all my life stood upon firm land and had seen the sea and firm land, but that all at once a dense fog fell, and I could see nothing.' 'By-the-way, you have never seen the sea?' 'No, never. I shall go there when we are married.' 'But I suppose, now that all is square between you two, you will be married before summer?' 'Before summer! Before spring, I hope. Why should we wait any longer than is now absolutely necessary? All is settled between us. My mother is content, I think, and no friend or relative of Marie's has to be consulted.' 'I am sorry things are not so far forward between Kate and me. We have not definitely arranged anything yet, and I have first of all to get a formal answer from your mother. For that answer I cannot press immediately--I mean for a week or so. Although I asked you to make it a double event, I fear I haven't the power to arrange about it now. Twenty-four hours ago I thought I was much more near the happy state than you; and now you seem to be on the point of entering it, and I, although on the road to it, a long way off. Well, we must only take our luck as it comes. But why do you choose the seaside for your winter honeymoon?' 'It is a whim of mine, a foolish whim, perhaps. I can't give you a reason for it. Don't you think all whims foolish?' 'My dear fellow, I am delighted you have a whim; no man can possibly be perfect without a whim. You have gone up fifteen per cent, in my esteem within the last two minutes. Think whims foolish? Not I! Why, they are the bouquet in the wine of a man's nature. A whim is something out of the common. What is genius but a bundle of whims? Up to a few moments ago I regarded you as an assemblage of all the cardinal virtues mixed up humbo-jumbo, mixed up anyway, anyhow, but without the cement of vice or weakness. Now you are to me like a vast cathedral, perfect in proportion, perfect in detail. I don't say a whim is a vice or a crime, but it's a thing an archbishop would think very little of. Your having a whim reminds me of the time when I was cast away on a coral island in the Pacific. Just as I rubbed the salt-water out of my eyes I saw coming towards me--'