“I shall summons you for calling me an isosceles triangle.”
Dr. Wayneflete laughed too … a small sound drowned by Dr. Hurd’s thwack on the arm of his chair as he flung back his head for his laugh.
“It has been wonderful today, don’t you think ? Did you see the extraordinary light this afternoon?”
“Well no; we were all of us immured, but we were out this evening; we thought it the best specimen of London weather we’d struck so far.”
“There’s nothing whatever the matter with London weather. It’s perfect ; the most perfect in the world.” Dr. Hurd resumed his shakings of laughter, restrained to listen. Dr. Winchester was sitting bent forward smiling dreamily.
“I know you won’t like me to call that a hyperbole, but you won’t quite expect me to say I unreservedly agree.”
“It isn’t a question of agreement or disagreement. It’s a simple fact.” Dr. Hurd again struck his chair and sat forward feeling for a handkerchief in a side pocket, his face a tearful grin turned upon Dr. von Heber.
“You are a loyal champion.”
“English weather does not want a champion. It’s so wonderful. Perhaps you are thinking of Italian skies and that sort of thing; in countries where the weather does not change or not suddenly; only at fixed seasons. That’s very nice in a way. You can make plans. But I know I should long for grey days and changes in the sky. A grey day is not melancholy; it’s exciting. You can see everything. The sun makes everything pale and blinds you.”
“There I think you mistaken. Nothing beautifies like sunlight, and if you’ve the sun behind you, you get the ahead prospect without being blinded.”