A wind sprang high in the west, like a wave of unreasonable happiness,
and tore eastward across England, trailing with it the frosty
scent of forests and the cold intoxication of the sea.
It a million holes and corners it refreshed a man like a flagon,
and astonished him like a blow. In the inmost chambers of
intricate and embowered houses it woke like a domestic explosion,
littering the floor with some professor's papers till they seemed
as precious as fugitive, or blowing out the candle by which a
boy read "Treasure Island" and wrapping him in roaring dark.
But everywhere it bore drama into undramatic lives,
and carried the trump of crisis across the world.
